The Call
by BiJane
Summary: Sequel to Mind Games etc. Year Five. A mysterious plot is hatched within Hogwarts, and a predestined clash between Voldemort and Dumbledore is due to occur: both events complicated by the headmaster's indisposition. Hogwarts itself is at risk.
1. Journeying

**The first chapter of The Call, sequel to Mind Games, as well as all my other Harry Potter/Doctor Who cross-over stories.  
>Still mainly introducing storylines in the first chapter. In any case, for this story, some of you may recognize the foe. Some of you may not. Hee, enjoy!<strong>

Dumbledore stood at the head of the table, in the Order Of The Phoenix headquarters.

On chairs, around it, there sat a variety of wizards and witches. Sirius Black, Bill, Molly and Arthur Weasley, Mad-Eye Moody (the genuine article this time), Remus Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley, Mundungus Fletcher, as well as two other later additions to the group, sitting a small distance from the others, Amy Pond and the Doctor.

"Who's watching over Harry?" the words were spoken by Dumbledore, in a voice unusually casual.

There was a momentary, quick crack as Mundungus Fletcher disapparated. Several members of the Order rolled their eyes.

"We should start of by, um, reviewing our progress," a few members of the Order frowned at Dumbledore's stutter. Only McGonagall, the Doctor, Amy and Sirius did not react.

Taking over automatically, Minerva McGonagall flicked her wand once. Paper levitated, and several images appeared on each, slowly fading into view.

The first was of Severus Snape's head, the second of a metal mask, not unlike those worn by Death Eaters, and the third showed Dumbledore.

There was a little surprise at the sight of the last; yet reactions were withheld, until the correct time. McGonagall got to her feet as Dumbledore sat down.

"Severus Snape," Minerva gestured at the first, "He was escorted to the Ministry for trial, after performing the Imperius curse." There was a small gasp among two or three members of the audience, unaware of that detail. McGonagall spoke quickly to avoid any misunderstanding; "The curse was performed to save the life of Harry Potter, who was the victim of a creature we have not encountered before. While being escorted, Severus was abducted by a woman of unknown origin."

The teacher flicked her wand once; the picture of Snape blurred until it was no longer present; that piece of paper was lowered back onto the table. She moved the next floating slide to the front.

"We know nothing of this woman, except that she wears a metal mask," the teacher spoke, irate at having to talk about such a glaring lack of knowledge. "She has appeared in Hogwarts before. We do not know who she is, nor what she is trying to achieve. We do know however that she is in possession of formidable powers: she has apparated to and from Hogwarts School, and once damaged the side of a tower; a damage we have not yet repaired. Our one witness states she was responsible for the abduction of Severus."

The loss of Snape had been a tender subject in the Order for quite some time. He was their most vital member; he could report directly on what Voldemort was doing.

Each of them feared, though none said aloud, that the Death Eaters had discovered Snape's true allegiance, and that was why he was taken from them. However, that did not explain the woman.

Whatever the case, the Order of the Phoenix was determine to find out.

Upon finishing that dialogue, Minerva McGonagall sat down. The last piece of paper hovering in the air gently lowered, until it lay on the table; a picture of Albus Dumbledore.

The headmaster of Hogwarts stood up once more; ready to address the Order again.

"Ok, so we've covered strange new creatures," Dumbledore began. A few of the Order again frowned; it sounded nothing like the headmaster. Still, Albus continued:

"There's another creature we need to talk about. It's called the Voice and, uh-" an odd expression passed over the headmaster's face.

For a few moments, he stood there, somewhere between confused and impatient. Then, as if on cue, a strange bubble seemed to pass under his skin; the elderly flesh rippling. His white beard too, it trembled, seemingly drawing inwards.

Several seconds later, and the distortions had run their course, moving over the whole of the man's body, before fading away. Standing there now, was a man, short hair, smiling a little guiltily.

"Polyjuice," Moody muttered, getting up, wand in hand. "_Stupefy!_"

No curse came from his wand. The wizard looked confused at his wand; a long silence. It was then he became aware of a steady, irritating buzzing.

Frowning, many of the Order turned to look at the newcomer; the Doctor.

"Hello," the Time Lord beamed; "I'm the Doctor. Well, you know that, but still," he stood up, taking a few bounding steps over to the man who had once appeared to be Dumbledore, "And this is Rory! Sorry about all this, we'd hoped things would be finished by the time the next year came around, but no. Term's almost started and we're no closer."

Only a few teachers knew of Dumbledore's predicament: paralyzed, in Hogwarts Castle, accompanied by only the ghost of Rory, who existed for some unknown reason and had been flung into the past, and possessed by a creature from Midnight which they knew only as the Voice. If any spoke near it, the Voice could talk in unison with them: impossibly accurate, just knowing and echoing what they'd say.

Last year, the Voice had still been there. The Doctor had used Rory and Polyjuice potion to keep up appearances; they couldn't let anyone know of Dumbledore's condition, and with Voldemort on the loose, now that rule was even more important. If news of the headmaster's 'illness' spread, Hogwarts wouldn't last even one day more.

Rory had fulfilled all the needed functions; head of the Order, headmaster of Hogwarts, even attending Harry's trial at the Ministry, giving a defence case handily memorized from the book.

McGonagall knew, as she was the one who called the Doctor last year. Sirius knew because they needed his permission to let Rory, Amy and the Doctor enter the order's headquarters; other than that, it was more or less a secret.

"We're planning something though," the Doctor said, exhaling in relief. It was good to be able to do something properly again, "The TARDIS is up and working, and hopefully there are going to be no irritating aliens at Hogwarts, so I need a few people to come with me. Two heads are better than one after all; and three is even better than that. Four's better too, and five, and six… Not seven though, then it just gets awkward," he frowned, "Anyway, stop letting me go off on tangents!"

He paused, looking around at the Order. They seemed to be listening to him, even if a few, like Moody, looked at him as if he was outright insane.

"We're going to Midnight," the Doctor said; nervous, yet grinning in anticipation. "Taking another bus trip, see if there's anything there. Anyone want to volunteer?"

Silence. The Order simply stared, disbelieving; Moody especially seemed almost paranoid.

"Well, I'm in," Sirius was the first to speak; "It'll do me good to get out of this place."

His response was unexpected; on the whole, the people present seemed sceptical, more inclined to mock than encourage. Still, Sirius evidently trusted the Doctor; enough to let him into his house. Naturally, Harry's godfather would trust the stranger.

McGonagall appeared almost incredulous, unaware of the Time Lord's latest plan, the Weasley family listened, unsure, Moody watched, distrusting, Lupin hesitated, Tonks was thinking, and Kingsley looked around. Now Sirius had shown his trust, no one was willing to be the voice of discontent.

"I would be interested," Lupin put forward, tentative. "If it would be possible."

"Ah, yes," the Doctor winced, "That might not be. We're not sure on what actually causes a werewolf transformation, some forms it's wavelengths of light, some it's the moon facing you, or its image… I don't think it's safe for you on another planet, sorry Remus."

Lupin nodded, marginally upset. The curse affected all areas of his life; even this.

"I'll keep an eye on you," Moody muttered gruffly; before any more of the Order could cut in. "That's hm, five."

"Four," the Doctor interrupted; Rory's needed here. Dumbledore still needs to run Hogwarts," the Doctor muttered, frowning, still grinning.

"Four's enough, isn't it?" Amy frowned, leaning forwards.

"Should be," the Doctor murmured, "Four's a good number."

"And five?" Minerva McGonagall spoke quickly; voice quavering, yet powerful.

The Time Lord shot a surprised look at her; a small smile curved the transfiguration teacher's lips.

"You cannot honestly expect me to do nothing while you aid the headmaster," McGonagall spoke as if it were obvious.

"Good to have ya with us," the Doctor grinned, walking over to pat her on the back.

For a few seconds, there was a silence; one thrumming with anticipation. Then, in one movement, Sirius, McGonagall, Moody, Amy and the Doctor all stood up.

The soon-to-be visitors to the crystal planet of Midnight grouped at one side of the room. Still broadly smiling, the Doctor buzzed the door with his sonic; it swung open, and standing proud behind it was a blue police box.

"I'll try to have them back before the term starts," the Doctor grinned back at the room; "Sometimes I lose a few days when travelling."

"Or years," Amy pointed out

"Or- yes, can you stop talking about that now? I get the point," the Time Lord was sighing.

Amy smiled slyly behind him. Rolling his eyes, despite still grinning, the Doctor unlocked the TARDIS door, gently pushing it open. The wonderful world within was exposed for the wizards to see; it glimmered.

Ecstatic at once again being home, for how else was he to think of the time machine, the Doctor skipped up to the central console.

Looking around, as was the custom upon first journey into the TARDIS, Sirius, McGonagall and Moody looked around, quietly awed.

"I had a tent like this, once," Sirius observed.

"Oy! Watch it!" the Doctor managed to shoot a hurt look through the console room, while he fiddled with the controls, "I could take you back right now!" He soothingly stroked the metallic console; "You're better than a tent."

O

The first day of school once more; at Hogwarts. Draco sat on the Slytherin bench; the other students shuffled away, however subtly. His expression was visibly dark.

His normal allies, Crabbe and Goyle, had made excuses to leave him, rushed somewhere else. Probably afraid.

Malfoy on the other hand sat still, slowly savouring his lunch, and fiddling with a talisman under the table.

It was an etching of a serpent's head; a snake, head-one, moving to bite. Pointed eyes were just visible behind the flat, carved maw, and two long, smooth fangs descended from the upper scales, curved around on the flat surface, until they moved out the sides of its mouth, one either side, and pointed up, not unlike bull horns. Or, Draco reflected in a fit of momentary darkness, devil horns. No colour; simply a grey, flat amulet, glaring up at him.

It was then the blonde noticed several runes, engraved along the horn/fangs. Roman numerals; Draco murmured them to himself, as he ran his finger over them.

Numbers; more than that. On one, there was a date; that day. On the other, a time; a couple of minutes away.

Evidently, an alert for some kind of meeting; the Slytherin remembered when he'd received the snakehead. The masked woman; identity and motivation and allegiance unknown. A witch, who'd given him the snakehead, and commanded he to come when she called.

That didn't sit well with Draco; he didn't like having his free will stolen.

Still, he couldn't do anything about it. The snakehead refused to give any clue as to a meeting point; Draco leisurely ate his lunch, uncaring of the serpentine talisman.

And then it burned; a searing heat from his robe, strong enough that he feared it might catch aflame.

Quickly, Malfoy yanked the snakehead out from his pocket once more. Now, a glowing arrow was shining on the serpent's face. A brand; he tilted the snakehead, and the arrow's direction also, changed, pointing in the same constant direction, regardless of how the talisman was tilted.

Irritated, Draco put his lunch aside, standing up. He left the hall; guided now by that shining arrow.

Several minutes later, approaching the time specified on the snakehead's fang, Malfoy found himself on the seventh floor; guided towards a small huddle of other students. As he neared them, he noted that they also were all Slytherin.

No words. Silently, Draco paced up to the huddle, standing a small distance from them and pocketing the heated snakehead. Casting a glance over to the other Slytherins, he noticed that they too all held similar snakehead amulets; all eleven of them. Crabbe and Goyle were among the group.

Flash. Rumble.

A sudden flare of blue; walking forwards as if there had been no transition, the woman with tangled hair and a metal mask appeared, and passed much of the huddle. She was taller than many of them; and imposing enough to part them despite giving no action. As she approached the wall, there was a rumbling, and a door began to form itself from the stone.

"Room of Requirement," the woman relished the words; entering the newly-present door. "Come on," she turned, gesturing with a sharp movement for the group to follow her. All eleven, and Draco, did so.

Her voice was warning; tone moderately casual, until she commanded, such as then. In those cases, the last few syllables were prolonged, harsher, feral instinct audible behind them. The Slytherins obeyed simply for fear of what her voice warned against.

The interior of the Room of Requirement was large, imposing.

Almost like a cathedral. The walls were dark grey stone, the floor was black marble, and huge gothic pillars supported the distant, domed ceiling. Immense; possibly bigger than the Great Hall. In the centre of the room was an archaic pedestal, an altar.

One aspect of the floor stood out; a white serpent, a side on view, the classical appearance of an extended S shape, slightly raised from the polished jet-black marble floor.

The Slytherin group silently, nervously, moved further into the room. The woman stayed behind them, murmuring to herself, chanting spell and running a softly glowing wand over the door.

Her wand wasn't normal. That much was obvious; it seemed augmented by something, maybe a machine, maybe otherwise. A soft blue glow emanated from the tip while the magic was being performed, and the blend of characteristics gave her access to feats surpassing those of most other wizards.

"The room is separated," an unfriendly edge to her voice, as she spoke, filling the entire chamber with noise, "As of now, we exist in a dimension no longer tied to Hogwarts. They will not find us."

Her tones were almost mocking; a desire, a need, for cruelty edged her voice. She satisfied the urge with icy sound and scorn.

"You will obey me!" her voice rose to a tremulous, cracked shout, "Come when my snakeheads call, or else…"

She momentarily seemed contented to leave the threat like that, vague. Then, a moment later, the unstable woman jabbed her wand forwards, with a screech of: "_Crucio!_"

Agony ripped through the gathered twelve students. They fell to their knees, shaking, feeling as if the pain was endless-

"Am I clear?" the woman kept her wand held tightly in her hand, twirling it near her lips, wishing for a chance to cast the curse once more.


	2. Creatures

**I don't think this chapter was some of my best writing, but hopefully you'll still enjoy.  
>Word of warning: it could be quite a while until my next chapter. Currently <em>incredibly <em>busy, and going on holiday next week. And missing the first episode of next series of Doctor Who. Which is very annoying. Still, can't wait!**

The TARDIS materialized on a different planet; a world of diamond, clear crystal, several weeks before the Doctor would first visit the place. However, that Time Lord still lead the expedition out of the blue box; a mismatched group of Amy Pond, Sirius Black, Minerva McGonagall, and Mad-Eye Moody.

The expedition looked distinctly out of place. The ever-eccentric Doctor, accompanied by the curious, looking-around Amy, both followed by three wizards/witches. Sirius seemed quietly awed, McGonagall strode imperiously forwards, earning a few strange looks for her pointed hat and robes, while Moody walked, intimidating, presence enough to convince people to look away.

The Time Lord led the way, through the resort.

The walls were curved metal; no windows at all, due to the lethal sunlight outside. Instead, plates of luminous metal were embedded in the walls; the only source of light.

Every now and again, there were signs; pointing the way to a variety of things. Sunbathing, that way. Zero-G restaurant, that way. Rooms, that way, and Crusader Bus tours, that way.

Grinning, the Doctor headed for the bus tour bookings.

He wasn't sure what he was looking for; but he would hopefully find out. Whatever the Voice was, it was new, unknown. Living only here. Even the slightest bit of information would be worth the journey; and where else could he get that information?

"Five tickets please," the Doctor bobbed into view of the ticket dispenser.

A word of text appeared on the automated machine: SPECIFY.

"Um, four adults," he glanced back at the magicians and Amy, "And one senior."

Surreptitiously, he buzzed the sonic just next to the dispenser. Click; it accepted the 'payment'. A moment later, and five slips of metal fell out.

The Doctor stepped away from the machine, giving out the four 'adult' tickets to the others. He led them further into the complex, towards the bus.

Several minutes later, the Crusader bus departed. Only the five were on it; in addition to the stewardess, and the two drivers in the forwards compartment. A buzz of the sonic screwdriver later, and the obnoxious entertainment system was paralyzed.

McGonagall sat beside Moody, on the right of the bus. Amy and the Doctor sat a row in front, and Sirius sat on the other side, purposefully keeping his distance from the others. The stewardess, a woman very similar to the one the Doctor had seen before, stood at the front of the vehicle.

Thinking quickly, the Doctor buzzed the sonic once more. For a few seconds, the Crusader bus rumbled, distinctly unhealthy.

"One moment," the stewardess spoke. She darted through the automatic doors, to the driver cabin.

One buzz from the sonic more, a green flash directed at the front.

"Right," the Time Lord stood up, turning around and clapping his hands together, "They're locked in there now, nothing suspicious at all. We can talk."

"About time," Sirius's arm fell, moderately roughly, to the arm of his chair. "What are we meant to be doing here, other than wasting time?"

Moody's magical eye swivelled, focusing on the wall of the bus; he furrowed is brow, focusing.

"We're on another planet," he grunted, gaze penetrating the wall of the bus.

"Well, yeah, I did say," the Doctor said, offhandedly.

Upon hearing it from Moody however, the teachers reacted. McGonagall raised her eyebrows, impressed, surprised, awed even. Sirius merely hesitated; yet that hesitation was prolonged by the newness of the situation.

Few humans in their era ever set foot on something outside Earth's atmosphere; none yet had left the Solar System. And yet now, here they were, on an impossible world, impossible distances away.

"See anything out there, Mad-Eye," Sirius muttered, impatient.

The auror focused on the wall, thinking. Several seconds ticked past.

"Nothing," a frown, "Just lots of crystal. Not all that interesting," he shuffled until he faced the Doctor, "I thought we were to find a creature?"

"Well, I dunno," the Doctor shrugged, "The bus did take a different route last time. Besides, I can't predict everything. Just most things."

A few quiet moments. Muffled mutterings could be heard, as the stewardess struggled with the jammed door.

Sighing, Sirius got to his feet. "I've had enough of this," he muttered, striding straight up to the emergency exit.

"No, wait!" the Doctor stumbled to his feet; "The sunlight here, it's deadly," a frown, "Some kind of tonic."

"Well I'll be careful," Sirius rolled his eyes; impatient, irritated at being cooped up.

Without another word, the wizard lifted his wand, slapped the door open, and stepped outside. Whatever incantation he spoke was lost with the sudden whoosh of decompression.

The door slid shut.

The Doctor's outstretched arm slumped somewhat, reaching out vainly for the lost ex-prisoner. The Time Lord stared, disbelieving, at the now-shut door.

Silence.

"He's fine," Moody muttered gruffly.

The Doctor span around suddenly; eyes wide. Then, an instant later, as if to prove Moody's point, there was a knock on the outside of the bus. The Doctor winced; "Not again," he rolled his eyes, comically despairing.

Several minutes later, and all the witches and wizards had left the bus, leaving it to trundle along the diamond surface, oblivious to its sudden lack of passengers.

_Protego _was the first word ever spoken on the surface of Midnight. Sirius kept the shield charm pointed upwards, filtering out any of the harmful rays. Amy stood by his side; just in front of McGonagall, Moody, and the Doctor, protected by shield charms of their own.

The Doctor was definitely enjoying himself; he skipped along the clear, perfect diamond, relishing the uniqueness of the experience. Clink; a whole orchestra of notes as they strode across melodic land.

"Doctor," a sudden call; from Amy.

"Doctor," McGonagall also called, before the Doctor could turn.

"What is it, Pond?" the Time Lord span around on the spot, remaining under Sirius's makeshift umbrella of magic.

Nothing appeared amiss; Amy and Moody stood with Minerva McGonagall; yet the latter was not moving. And then she spoke, voice dragging.

"What is it Pond." She spoke in a monotone, missing the levity which had been in the Doctor's speech.

"No, no, no, no, no," the Doctor ran his hands back through his hair, darting closer to the Voice-possessed teacher.

No life stared out of those unblinking eyes. Involuntarily, the Time Lord shivered.

"Can-" Sirius began.

"Don't speak," the Doctor raised one hand, as if warding the wizard off, while simultaneously placing a finger over his lips, shushing.

The Voice echoed the words, forcing them from McGonagall's throat.

"Ok," the Doctor paused, tilting his head as he watched the witch. "Can you hear me? I don't know if you can, but please, listen. Think about what you're doing; it's pointless. Even if you put the harm aside, it's just staggeringly, well, stupid. We can't survive in the sunlight, like you can; sometime our protection is going to go. What then? Will you still be there, responsible for the waste of life? No species like that should ever evolve, not naturally at least; and it doesn't look like you've had much interference on this world."

The Time Lord panted a little after his speech; fully aware each and every word would be echoed back at him. Teaching the Voice yet more things.

_We can't survive in the sunlight like you can._

Her voice was missing any of the tempo normally present in speech. It was somehow unsettling; uncannily close to natural words, yet just a little too far away. In consequence, all the words really achieved was to disturb the listener.

_What then, will you still be there? _

McGonagall shuddered; a surprisingly human gesture. In all his time of possession, Dumbledore had never made any movement like that.

_Responsible for the-_

Her voice cut off. Seconds later, she blinked, looking down at the clear ground, and up at the Doctor.

Free.

A ripple in the air. A blinding flash of light, reflected and refracted in the crystalline ground. Something fled from them; _something_. A creature powerful enough to wreck a Crusader bus, yet subtle enough to remain unseen for so long; and changeable enough to hide entirely within a person's mind.

The burst of light kept it concealed. The Voice of Midnight moved on, still unseen by any living eye.

"That was good," the Doctor grinned, looking around at the untouched world, safe beneath the shield charm.

"I don't see how," Moody grumbled

"We proved that it listens," the Doctor looked back at the auror

"Not much," grunt

"Not much?" the Doctor rolled his eyes, "Moody, it's everything."

O

Rory Pond sat nervously in Dumbledore's Office. Several weeks into term; he was expected to stay in this place.

This year was the year of the tyrannical Umbridge, who seemed to take pleasure in coming after Dumbledore every chance she had. All Rory could do was retreat to this Office, to which she didn't know the password, and relax.

The only problem was the real Dumbledore; Voice possessed, and staring.

"Alright, you can look away," Rory mumbled, edgy under that insistent stare.

The Voice repeated his words; completely synchronized. Mr Pond shivered.

It seemed impossible. Yet that ominous Voice knew exactly what he would say, at the instant he said it. How did that happen? How _could_ that happen?

"Get out of my head," Rory muttered suddenly; a snap, angry.

_Get out of my head. _

Snide, Dumbledore's stolen eyes glared. Mocking.

"Stop it!" Rory found himself raising his voice; a gesture not at all mimicked by the condescending, mild speech of the Voice. _Stop it_. Voices synced up; yet the tones were so different, it was hard to confuse them.

"Stop!" Rory slammed a hand on the desk; frustration overloading.

Was that…a smile curling Dumbledore's lips, as the Voice echoed? Or was it is imagination?

That split second of distraction was enough. Rory closed his eyes, rubbing them, running his hands back through his hair. The traces of anger were still there; yet he found he could ignore them, even if the urges lingered, unresolved. Tempting. Urging.

The Doctor had mentioned something like that; it could feed on your fears, on your worry, amplifying them. It had turned a group of ordinary humans into little more than a primitive mob; and as it left, they recovered.

"No," Rory mumbled, incoherent. The underlying murmurs of the Voice provided a pang of irritation.

Needing to leave the Voice's influence, Rory got to his feet, striding through the Office until he reached the gargoyle. The password had been changed to Fez, under the Doctor's insistence.

Breathing clearly once more, Rory wandered the corridors of Hogwarts. His thoughts occasionally drifted to the pitiful, possessed Dumbledore; and aside from a remnant of anger, a flicker of frustration at that perpetual echo, his mind had become more relaxed.

Not for the first time, the man who looked like Dumbledore wondered as to when the Doctor would return. Rory had distracted the inquisitive Umbridge with a hasty story about Dementors seen again in Little Whinging, successfully turning the hag pale. The tale wouldn't last for long though, Umbridge was always nagging him to explain the details.

A sigh escaped from Rory's elderly lips; you'd expect a time traveller to be more punctual.

And then a familiar wheezing, groaning met his ears. He looked up suddenly; grinning quickly, before running after the source of the noise. He passed a group of Slytherins, and stopped on the seventh floor, just by a door in the wall.

"Room of Requirement," the Doctor hopped out of the door, grinning. The rest of the expedition to Midnight followed; Amy, Moody, Sirius, and a shaken McGonagall.

"That's an easy place to leave her," the Time Lord looked fondly back at the TARDIS, waiting for everyone to leave before he pointed the sonic at the room.

"What now?" Amy rolled her eyes, sighing

"Making things easier for Harry, alter in the year," the Doctor shrugged, "He'll be making the DA in here, so I'm making sure the Room lets other people use it, even with the good old TARDIS in there. Might be a little overlap, but they'll survive."

O

Harry walked away from his latest Detention with Umbridge, cupping the back of one hand. The skin was red, from where cuts had repeatedly been inscribed, prickling.

"We need to talk," the words were muttered to the Boy Who Lived as Draco shuffled past; the Slytherin didn't stop, simply saying the words while carrying on.

Harry hesitated; before deciding to continue on, looping around to meet Draco. Evidently the blonde wanted to keep this meeting subtle.

A couple of minutes later, and Harry was walking down a parallel corridor, to a small alcove in which he'd spoken to Draco over the last few years. A statue of a Patronus, cast by the discoverer of the spell, arched over the passage; a dramatic piece of art to be sure.

Draco was sitting on the ripples of the formless spell. Speeding up somewhat, Harry ignored the proud wizard, and quickly sat just beside the Slytherin, on another carved fluctuation in the stone spell.

"Remember that woman, in the mask?" Draco's eyes darted around; haunted. His hand was buried in a pocket of his robe, fiddling with something.

"Yeah?" Harry said after a few seconds; tentative

"Well, she's back," Draco muttered, slapping his free hand down on the stone. "Made some kinda cult in a room on the Seventh floor."

"She," Harry cut himself off, frowning. "How'd you know?"

"Guess who she's recruited," Draco muttered bitterly.

It took a moment for Harry to react to the implications of that statement. The Boy Who Lived shot a shocked glance across at the Slytherin; before carefully speaking.

"Do you know why?" Tentative. Harry wasn't sure what to make of it; all he did know however, was how threatening the woman could be.

Two memories flashed in his mind. The first: Hogwarts, last year. The woman had impossibly appeared, for no reason other than to torture the black haired student. _Crucio!_ Her high tones, relishing the excruciating curse, still made him shiver. And the second memory was in the graveyard; when Voldemort had returned. That same masked woman had appeared in a flash; stunned him, left him at the resurrected Dark Lord's non-existent mercy.

Harry shuddered at the thoughts.

"How am I meant to know?" the blonde said, still bitter, irritated, almost spitting the words out. "Kept approaching me last year. Now she's made this little club. Didn't say why; just laying down rules. Obey her. Come when she calls. Classic stuff. Didn't ask what the punishment would be; with her, I didn't want to know."


	3. First Hell

**Dramatic chapter time! A few of the more avid Doctor Who fans out there might be beginning to recognize something...  
>Also, the rating has gone up because of the end of the chapter. gets a lot darker there, I should warn you. Why is it the evil people can't be nice? Sigh...<br>Anyway, enjoy! **

Halloween in Hogwarts; floating pumpkins dotted the long, winding corridors. The occasional, awed First Year could be seen staring at them, while some mischievous Seven Years, who looked exactly alike and had vivid red hair, seemed intent on charming them.

A few moments later, a Third Year passed beneath a pumpkin. It flashed a sickly green, and a foul-smelling ointment dropped from the bottom. Laughing, the twins turned and quickly ran away.

Cautious, Harry ducked around a hovering pumpkin; heading to the Great Hall. An alarming amount of them had been hexed by the Weasley twins.

Suddenly, one of them ducked down, and blew a loud raspberry straight in Harry's face. The student tried to bat it away, stumbling back; and after about half a metre's motion, the jack o' lantern silenced itself, and returned to its normal resting point, hovering, waiting for its next victim.

"Sorry about my brothers," several minutes later, Ginny sat herself beside the black haired boy in the Great Hall.

"Could've been worse," Harry shrugged, speaking partly because he was anxious to avoid offence, but also in reaction to an event over the other end of the hall. Another pumpkin had just exploded, shooting gunk over most of the Slytherin table.

As they watched, an irate Draco Malfoy stood up, striding out the hall. In a fit of seemingly excessive anger, he jabbed his wand at one of the floating lanterns; incinerating it.

Harry was the only one to notice Draco's preoccupation. The blonde was fiddling with something in his hands, some rounded metal talisman; and wincing, as if it was burning. Not only that, but instead of returning to the Common Rooms, as would be expected, Draco had chosen a different route; one that would instead take him up several floors. The seventh among them.

Was he heading to that room he'd mentioned, with the masked woman?

Putting that aside, Harry looked back to Ginny.

"So," the redhead seemed more confident than she had been, in previous years. "You hate that hag Umbridge too?"

"Yeah," Harry snorted.

As if on cue, a small flock of orange pumpkins hovered into the hall, each with the same mission, bestowed by a mischievous spell from Fred and George. They bubbled over to the teacher's table, and spattered over the Ministry-appointed Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher as she was trying to eat.

Sniggering ran through many of the tables; Umbridge shot a fit-to-kill look over them, soon silencing them.

"Thank your brothers for me," Harry noted, biting back a laugh on a mouthful of cake.

"Join the queue," Ginny retorted, watching Umbridge storm out. "Looks like a lot of people agree."

"Don't blame them," Harry chuckled, unconsciously rubbing the back of his hand; scarred by many torturous detentions with Umbridge.

"Think we can get them to teach at the next DA meeting?" Ginny asked, semi-laughing, "How to annoy the Hogwarts High Inquisitor."

"You just have to say Voldemort's returned for that," the black haired student murmured bitterly.

A cheer went up through many of the tables as Fred and George walked, grinning, into the room. From the teacher's table, Flitwick raised his goblet a small distance, out of respect.

Harry felt grateful to Draco; he realized that upon thinking about the DA. The location for the lessons, the Room of Requirement, was the same place that the woman's cult took place. If it wasn't for Draco, he wouldn't have known about it, and as such, the DA wouldn't exist.

And then hell broke loose.

O

Umbridge walked, irate, out of her office. The gunk that the pumpkins had covered her in proved resistant to normal magical means of cleaning; and so she'd needed to change.

As she began to make her way back to the hall, she was passed by several Slytherins. A frown. Face innocently curious, despite considerably less civility in her mind, she looked at them, beginning to follow.

"Hem-hem," she coughed, upon meeting a huddle of the seventh floor.

The group suddenly span around, all focusing on her. Twitch. Dolores Umbridge glared.

"According to Educational Degree number 24," her voice was the epitome of civility, "No student organizations can exist without the approval of Hogwarts High Inquisitor."

A nervous murmur among the small group. Umbridge stood scarcely a metre from them, resolute and tight-lipped.

Silence. She hem-hemmed a second time, gaining no response from the Slytherins. They seemed petrified of something. Several seconds later, Umbridge noticed a blonde among the group.

"Draco," she said, cloyingly sweet, "You have always been such a wonderful boy. Will you tell me what's going on?"

Malfoy seemed at a loss for words for a moment. "Well," he began, seemingly accidentally stumbling; he thrust an arm back, knocking on the wall behind him twice, hard, loud. "It could take a while."

"Umbridge instantly changed tack. Her voice turned frosty. "We have time."

Silence; the seconds ticked past. The High Inquisitor was about to speak, when she was interrupted by a deep rumbling, a scraping of stone. Behind the huddle, a door formed itself from the wall. Slowly, it swung open; a woman stood in the entryway, dark tangled hair falling over a metal mask.

One look at Umbridge.

"Come in," the woman said; cold, to the Slytherins. Commanding. A sneer at the High Inquisitor. "You are not fit to wear his soul." She spoke with reverence.

Before the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher could respond, there was a flash of light.

"_Stupefy!_"

A little time later, hell broke loose.

O

Hagrid strode around his hut, looking over the recently bare pumpkin patch. Before, several beauties had grown there; for Halloween, he had given them to the school. At least there was a good crop this year.

The giant began to turn over the soil, make it ready for new planting. After several seconds of labour, he dug the rake into the soil, and went into his hut for a few seconds. Upon coming out, he waved a pink umbrella; and the soil instantly turned itself over, rolling in chaotic patterns until the dirt beneath was exposed to the air.

"That's better," Hagrid muttered through his beard, ambling back into his hut, trusty umbrella in hand.

The gamekeeper had stayed on at Hogwarts because of Dumbledore. The giant was a great deal more perceptive than many people realized; especially when it came to his loyalty to the headmaster.

Upon noticing odd behaviour last year, he'd gone up to Dumbledore's office, using the surprisingly universal password of 'let me in or I'll smash you into little pieces', the gargoyle had allowed him access. That was his first experience with the Voice.

Despite the Doctor's insistence that Hagrid seek out the rest of the giants, loyalty to Dumbledore had prevented the giant from leaving the school.

While he didn't know quite what he'd be able to do, he knew he'd be able to do much more actually in the school, rather than wandering distant, forbidding mountains, looking for barbaric wild giants.

Thud. Hell broke loose.

Muttering to himself, Harry opened the door, looking out at the night sky. Another thud; the ground itself seemed to rumble. Scorching heat rushed towards him.

It was a wave of air, almost tangible in its intensity: a boiling, invisible, searing rush of blistering energy.

Stumbling through the scorching air, the giant looked around the back of his hut, towards the forest.

Thud.

The distant, towering trees pointed straight up to the sky, each at an immense height, huge silhouettes, each black against the violet night.

And something was there. A creature; one that seemed to revel in the blistering heat. Huge. Titanic. As tall as the tallest trees; and somehow infinitely menacing.

Humanoid. Hagrid staggered back; unused to seeing anything quite that huge. Normally the giant was at a similar height, if not taller than most things. But…that… It made even Hagrid feel a flicker of fear.

The creature, the titanic beast. Two long, strong legs supporting the muscled torso; the powerful body level with the tops of the trees. Two brawny arms, reaching out, easily toppling the trees of the Forbidden Forest. The head, a black outline against the dark sky, turning, searching; knowing it was superior to all the pitiful life around it.

And stretching from that sinister face, silhouette visible in the moonlight, were two, long, curved horns.

The titan bellowed, a bestial roar, and swung a great fist, uprooting one of the tallest trees, and throwing it deeper into the Forest; an action requiring terrible strength.

With that, Hagrid began to hurry towards the fiend.

And as the roar diminished, and the infernal heat began to fade, the distant blackness, the imposing, horned silhouette began to shrink; size decreasing until it was unseen.

And deep within the forest, the flames began.

O

"Vetis!" a wild shriek from the masked woman.

The Room of Requirement; darkened, black marble floor, with an altar, a stunned Umbridge, and a small, upraised, white slab. Serpentine. Upon the altar lay one small knife, and a metal sculpture; polished silver. A snake; intricately textured, scaled skin, with a gaping maw, two threatening fangs peering out, and triangular, glaring eyes; pale silver, burnished and featureless.

In a circle around that altar, the Slytherins stood, robes turned up into mystical-looking hoods. They'd taken part in some kind of ritual; chanting a spell they hadn't heard before, as the woman created sudden flares of fire.

Hell.

For less than a second, a dreadful surge of heat had emanated from the altar, beyond anything they'd ever experienced. Enough to kill them, so it felt.

And as the moment passed, the masked woman pointed a pale hand towards the floor; the centimetre-raised stone slab of a snake, forked tongue flicked out, stark white against the empty sable marble around. Nothing noticeable happened, yet as the moment past, the serpent seemed to emanate some sense of foreboding.

"Vetis!" a cry from the woman once more, "Come!"

Unstable; a screech, a shout, a scream, of exultation and agony, raising the serpentine, silver sceptre into the air; the snakehead bud on the top seeming to shimmer.

"Done," a voice came; from nowhere, it seemed. A deep, resounding rumble, inhuman, ever-serious, ever-emotionless.

And in the woman's hand, the snake started to writher; silver tongue flicking out, and metal body starting to squirm.

O

Chaos in the Great Hall.

The burst of inexplicable heat seemed almost material; the force of it flung people from their chairs, screaming.

"I say, that was…unexpected," the potions teacher, an elderly man called Horace Slughorn, who the Doctor had persuaded to take up teaching again (with Snape's disappearance), murmured quickly, righting himself to look over the hall.

The air was still blisteringly hot. Thought it had faded somewhat from the scorching initial rush, the unnatural heat was still just high enough to be unpleasant.

"I-ah, um, Order!" Rory stuttered, before bellowing out the command; doing his best to sound like the headmaster. The Polyjuice potion's effect continued; and his appearance lent useful credence to the command.

"Yeah, what he said," the Doctor skipped over to the centre of the table, "Now, if you could all please calm down," he shouted the last two words, pausing just long enough for some semblance of tranquillity to descend.

"Yes well," the Time Lord exhaled, as the swell of heat began to lower, "Now that's over with; don't panic, it's not the end of the world. Well, it's probably not, depends."

"Do you know what's going on?" an angry cry from one of the students; possibly a Ravenclaw

"No," the Doctor shook his head as if offended, before clapping his hands, "More fun that way. So-"

He was about to continue, before being interrupted by a crash of thunder; the grand doors leading to the Great Hall were swung open violently, and the half-giant Hagrid ran to the teacher's table, ground shaking under his feet.

For the first time in many years, Hagrid hadn't been present at the feast. Umbridge's prejudice against 'half-breeds' extended to Hagrid, and eventually the teacher had just become sick of it, and walked out mid-feast. Since then, he stayed in his hut at meal times; served by a house-elf sent down from the castle.

"Sir, sir," the giant nodded, panting, before walking up to the Doctor; the man whom the giant spoke to more often. He claimed the Doctor reminded him of Dumbledore. Well, sometimes.

"There's something in the forest," Hagrid muttered, eyes wide and worried. Still visibly shaken from the titanic apparition.

"There's a what?" the Doctor hopped over the table, standing about level with Hagrid's beard

"A- thing," Hagrid finished lamely, "Don't know how to describe it."

"Well, try, "the Doctor prompted, "Was it big, small, obvious, hiding, pink, stripy, or a fez?"

"It was," Hagrid hesitated, "Well I', I' couldn't really see it. But it was there. A lot of the Forest- looks like a lot of the Forest was cut away. Jus' empty land. Threw a stick in there an' it, an it' just caught fire."

"Some sort of barrier then," the Doctor nodded, thinking, "Species that cause shields, and are hot. Well, that could be- No, no way. That's impossible," he seemed surprisingly jovial, despite the more serious tones his words took on.

"And this barrier," the Time Lord began again, "How big was it?"

"I- uh, very," the giant paused, "Looked like it went a long way. Around Hogwarts, looked like."

"Ah, right," the Doctor slumped, "Well that's not good."

"Doctor?" it was Amy; she frowned.

"Yes, well," the Time Lord turned to the redhead. "It sounds like, whatever that heat was," brief, haunted look crossed his face, "There's a shield around the Hogwarts grounds. There's no way in, and no way to get out."

O

Umbridge stirred on the cold, black marble floor. The High Inquisitor blinked a few times, coming to, to see the cult of Slytherins.

In the centre, as always, there stood that masked woman. In one hand, she grasped a silver, writhing serpent; fierce, biting the empty air. In the other, she held a long, black, pointed wand.

"None of you will betray me!" she shouted, perhaps unaware of Dolores' newfound consciousness, perhaps knowing and uncaring.

Her voice was firm; she wasn't stating, she was commanding. And she fully expected that command to be carried out.

"You will all listen, and you will keep this…secret," her voice descended in a rush, to a sly, sinister whisper. The kind of whisper one would expect from some kind of phantom or spirit, or wraith. "Tell no one!" her voice again rose to a crescendo.

In that moment, she jabbed her wand straight up into the air; throwing the slithering, metal snake to the floor. The silver, forked tongue flicked out; once. Soulless eyes scanned the cult.

"Or else!" the statement was not completed; the woman instead opted to leave it as a feral yowl.

The serpent lunged forwards, darting through the air. Snakehead glaring; fangs bared and forked tongue flicking once. Despite being several metres from one of the Slytherin students, there was a distinct effect.

A scream; sudden pain. And with a puff of smoke, the student was lost. Gone.

The silver snake slithered back to its mistress; the masked woman. An amused bark, a split-second cackle.

"She can be replaced," off-hand. Chillingly uncaring. And then the woman turned to Umbridge; "You," sneering, "You defiled his soul with your touch." She spat onto the marble.

Umbridge got to her feet, momentarily defiant. Hand drifting towards wand.

"_Imperio!"_ the masked woman's practised voice spat out the spell. Umbridge stiffened.

"What should I make her do?" the woman spoke with glee, on the surface seeming to invite an answer; but if any of them dared suggest anything, it was likely she'd set the metal serpent on them.

Like a puppet on a string, Umbridge jerked forward. Gleeful, the masked woman directed the High Inquisitor, navigating her around the white slab, to the altar in the centre.

A sadistic grin spread across the face, behind the mask.

Silent, the metal serpent, also victim to the woman's control, slithered closer, circling Umbridge's leg, ascending. Moments later, it circle her stomach, passing higher, tongue flickering, cold silver pressed against Dolores' cheek. _Hiss._ Fangs brushed her ear. She could not move.

The masked woman flicked her wand.

Eyes darting around at the command, Umbridge lifted one hand, doing her best to resist the woman's expert control, gripping the snake's midriff. She pulled it away, forwards, holding the writhing snakehead before her face. Then, completely under the sadistic woman's control, she opened her mouth. Her hand was forced closer; the snakehead, that flicking tongue, touched her lips, entering her mouth.

The Slytherin cult did their best to look away; disgusted, more than a little scared by the sight. Umbridge may not have been their favourite teacher, but the humiliation and the torture inflicted by this woman, and the way she seemed to relish it… It was inhuman. Worse than that. It was hard to believe anyone, anything, would or could act like that.

Umbridge's eyes widened as she felt cold metal touch the back of her throat.

The masked woman flicked her wand again, slashing it sideways through the air.

Regaining control, Dolores retched, yanking the serpent from her mouth and throwing it, clattering, along the marble floor.

"Were you scared?" the masked woman simpered, turning her nose up as she looked down at the shaking, retching Dolores Umbridge.

"I-" Nothing to say. The High Inquisitor felt genuine fear; and had a great deal to say to this masked woman, and a great many illegal hexes to perform. Yet she had tied her own hands; the students who watched, they would report it, and at the very least, the rumours would spread. The impeccable reputation Umbridge had built would crash down. She could do nothing but resist, for the sake of the students' eyes, yet that was the last things he wanted to do.

"_Imperio!_"

Once again under the woman's control, inwardly trembling at the utter violation, Umbridge was forced forwards. Her hand reached out blindly, and Umbridge shook further at the most recent command. Her hand curled around the knife.

A sadistic grin broadened beneath a metal mask.

Dolores Umbridge's eyes widened, as her right hand drew the short knife closer to her body. It rested for a moment on the fingers of her left hand, and then to her face, brushing her nose, hovering for a moment near her eyes.

Umbridge was shaking now. Physically shaking; an action allowed by the Imperius curse, for the pleasure of the woman.

She'd forgotten the students were there; too engrossed in her new sport.

"What would you like me to do?" the masked woman sounded mocking, acting as if she was genuinely interested. "Eyes?" the blade dug into the tops of Dolores' eyelids. A whimper escaped the teacher's lips. "Fingers?" The knife left Umbridge's face, leaving just a shallow trickle of blood, soon stopping on the knuckle of her left little finger. A flick of a wand; and Umbridge lifted the knife further, now pressing it against her chest. It pierced the pink fabric, moving over her heart. The knife, wielded by her own hands, rested just over her heart.

The masked woman was genuinely enjoying herself. A flick of her wand, or an errant thought, and the High Inquisitor would kill herself. The woman enjoyed it, partly for the skill she was exercising, to both crush Dolores' will, partly for the utter controls he had, and partly for the challenge of controlling all her thoughts to such a refined degree.

So many possibilities…

Flick: a force of will.

Shaking, breathing heavily, terrified, Umbridge lifted the cold knife once more. She opened her mouth again; and let the frosty knife inside. For a few moments, it lingered, point pressed on the back of her tongue. Then, perfectly controlled, it turned sideways, touching the roof of her mouth.

The High Inquisitor sat like that for several minutes; on her knees, both hands clutching at the knife, blade deep inside her mouth and threatening to cut.

One moment passed. A scowl tore at the masked woman's face.

And then a scream; a howl of agony. The knife was wrenched forwards, cutting deep into the roof of Umbridge's mouth; the blade clattered onto the black marble, accompanied by a blood-streaked tooth.

Even as the blood filled her mouth, spilling out onto the floor, staining her robe, Umbridge was forbidden to move. She screamed; completely stationary, from the deep wound, tasting the tang of her own blood.

"Oops," the masked woman said coldly.

After a little more time, the woman commanded Umbridge to get to her feet; still a victim of the Imperius curse, and still in agony, the High Inquisitor obeyed. A thoughtful few moments; Dolores trembled; just thinking of what the sadistic woman would come up with next.

The teacher's own hand found themselves rising, uncontrolled, until they fastened themselves around Dolores' own neck. The High Inquisitor's eyes went wide; strangled by her own hands, she shook on the spot as air ceased to enter her lungs. Fear. It might not have the same possibility for pain as the previous tortures; yet it was just as profound a violation, losing her life to her own, unwilling body.

It was then that the masked woman noticed that her cult was still present; the Slytherins, looking away, edgy with the torture happening just metres away.

"Watch," a command from the masked woman's lips; she allowed Umbridge to lower her arms, and instead guided the High Inquisitor along the black marble.

"This is what happens if you betray me!" a shriek.

The floor was mostly a deep, sable black: save for the pools of blood, smeared where Umbridge had once sat, as well as one other decoration; a serpentine slab, pale white and ever-so-slightly raised above the normal black. The slab that the woman pointed at, around the time the silver snake had come to life, and the heat rushed through Hogwarts.

It was this slab Umbridge was forced towards; her body a marionette on a string. Her foot touched the stone snake.

A scream was ripped from Hogwarts High Inquisitor Dolores' Umbridge's lips, agonizing. Will and mind broken, body injured, blood streaming from the self-inflicted cut in her mouth, all that pain was nothing compared with the endless few seconds atop the stone.

And then, almost anti-climactic, she crumbled to ash; and the ash soon faded to nothing.


	4. Cult

**Hee, some teasers for you as to the foe.  
>Great timing really; about to go on holiday for a week, so no updates in that time, sorry. Hee, I'm evil! Buh-bye!Well, not as evil I was at the end of the last chapter... Heh, I had to show that she was an evil character! Anyway...it wasn't just me needing to torture Umbridge...nope...<br>Enjoy!**

"Someone's started this," the Doctor was speaking at the Order Of The Phoenix meeting; "That wave of heat? If I'm right, it means someone, well, some people, called it. There's a group of people in Hogwarts, and we need to find them."

"Right, and how?" Sirius muttered, sceptical.

The Doctor stood at the head of the table; the rest sat around him, Rory (still disguised as Dumbledore) and Amy the closest, with McGonagall, Moody, Sirius, Lupin etc around the rest of the table.

The meeting was held in the staff room, the Order members without an excuse to enter Hogwarts had come in via the Doctor's TARDIS. It seemed the strange barrier Hagrid observed around Hogwarts not only prevented manual passage, but the Floo network was also down.

A dome, some kind of shield composed only of energy, of searing heat. Spells simply popped and dissipated when sent through, and any objects were instantly incinerated. Luckily, no students had been injured; the worst harm caused by the shield were a few cases of flash-blindness, as branches and stones were flung into it.

Umbridge had disappeared. Ever since those few seconds of hell, and the formation of the impenetrable barrier, the high inquisitor had not been seen.

Several ghosts had attempted to pass out of Hogwarts, trying to drift through the shield. Impossible. The vague echoes of their senses were overloaded with agony, and on every occasional, the ghost was essentially knocked out, unconsciously drifting back towards the castle. They had surmised that the shield extended like some great sphere, for no ghost could travel out beneath the ground either.

Hogwarts, sanctuary from the Dark Lord, had become a prison.

"Absolutely no idea," the Doctor slumped back into his seat. "Still," he perked up, "A lot more fun that way."

"You have a strange definition of 'fun'," Moody muttered gruffly. "I say we interrogate all the students. Find these fire-starters the hard way."

"Never that easy," the Doctor shook his head. He was ignored.

"We can't talk to everyone," McGonagall shook her head. "But we can ask around, and get them to ask around too. Never underestimate the ingenuity of students," a fond smile touched her lips.

"Yeah," the Doctor nodded slowly, oblivious to the fact that no one paid attention to him. "Back on Galifrey, a few kids resurrected a President for a hoax. Didn't end well."

"So, it's settled?" Sirius muttered, "We get the students to tell us? If there are any new Marauders out there, that group won't know what hit `em."

"Best idea we've got," Tonks said. Her hair flickered for a moment, changing to a more vibrant shade of bubblegum pink.

With that, the teachers trekked out. Amy, Dumbledore/Rory and the Doctor were the last ones left in the room.

"So, Doctor," Amy chirped, "What do you think it was?"

"Huh? Um, nothing," the Time Lord grinned falsely.

"Oh, come off it Doctor," the redhead sighed, "You obviously have a theory, so share it."

"Nah, don't worry. Really, don't worry," his eyes darted around, shifty, "I'm probably wrong. Not as if it's some really, _really _old and dangerous alien race able to wipe Earth clean of life, no, not like that at all. Besides, they're all dead. I think."

"What?" Rory let the word drop like a stone, after several quiet seconds

"Don't worry," the Doctor shrugged, hopping to his feet. "Everything's going to be fine."

"I've heard that before," Amy mumbled, following the Doctor as he left the room.

O

Rory sat in the headmaster's office once more, staring into the wide, blue eyes of the Voice-possessed Dumbledore. Even without Umbridge chasing him into the room, they still didn't know what'd happened to the High Inquisitor, Rory seemed to gravitate back there.

Calming; tranquil. Possibly the most serene place in the whole castle.

"No one talks to you, huh?" Rory tilted his head, his own transformed body a mirror image of Dumbledore's bearded face, though the real Albus had a great deal unrulier beard.

The echo. Inevitable.

Rory closed his eyes, letting it pass, wash over him. Each word the Voice said seemed to carry some sense of forbidding, some sort of telepathic warning system perhaps. The Doctor had mentioned some sort of abilities in that field; even if he didn't know much about the Voice.

Mr Pond opened his eyes once more. Two Dumbledore's sat in the office; neither truly real, neither fully able to be called the genuine Albus.

"We need you," Rory muttered, "Doctor says there's some fixed point at the end of the year. Confrontation between Dumbledore and Harry. It needs to happen. I can't do that; I'm no wizard. I-"

Rory cut himself off, shaking. The perpetual, synchronized tones of the Voice never failed to unsettle him. To scare him.

The Voice seemed to thrive on fear. The headmaster's possessed eyes grew wider, almost in glee, as those tormented blue eyes stared at Rory Pond. Afraid? It encouraged the Voice.

Slowly, Rory moved, as if to speak again, but soon stopped himself. He didn't know how much more the Voice would take in before it evolved by one more step. Too much of a risk.

And those never-ending, mocking tones threatened to topple his sanity.

"Please stop," he croaked the words; almost unconsciously.

That was the danger of the Voice. If you spoke, its subtle manipulations on the fringes of your mind, they nearly made you go further than you ever normally would. Yet it was hard not to speak; that same tampering made speech an almost subconscious reaction.

And one thing you never thought of as a threat, was simply murmuring to yourself. Especially with wide, blue, listening eyes, attentive, as if waiting for a slip up. They stared at him; urging him to say more, to feed more words to the Voice's mind. Give it more power; give it control.

"I won't," he muttered to himself. Another victory for the Voice.

For a moment, it seemed as if a smile was creasing Dumbledore's elderly cheeks.

O

The speech, the request, had been delivered that day, at breakfast. An odd, stuttering speech from Dumbledore had asked each and every student to report it, if they saw an unsavoury group of students, or otherwise, anywhere in the castle.

Even though Umbridge's educational degrees were in place, with no real way to enter or exit Hogwarts' grounds, few teachers ever enforced them. As such, that could not be the reason for the strange request.

However, it did confuse Harry. Not only from the vague motivation behind it; but also on what he should do.

The DA hopefully didn't count as 'unsavoury', and in any case, why would Dumbledore himself issue a warning about it?

No, it had to be some other organization. And Harry had the feeling he knew what it was.

The masked woman. The clique Draco had been pressed into joining. If anything could be described as 'unsavoury', that woman could. And that was the source of Harry's confusion: what could he do?

On one hand, loyalty to Dumbledore. On the other, loyalty to Draco.

Triangular, silver eyes watched from the shadows. A glint; a serpentine, metallic face.

Hastily, the black haired boy wandered down the corridors, unaware of the soulless eyes watching him, towards the Patronus statue. That had gradually become their normal meeting point. No real reason, except that it was in a fairly secluded part of Hogwarts: far from the common rooms and dormitories. Not many people visited, simply because it was such an eerie place; filled with all kinds of statues and carvings.

The Gryffindor quickly passed a rather fierce chimera, stopping just by the flared robes of the stone wizard.

Now to wait. Draco was unlikely to come instantly.

Harry had found that, over the past few weeks, they seemed to gravitate there, almost subconsciously, daily. Not for any real reason, just for the sake of it. If the other had something to say, then they'd find each other here.

Hopefully today wouldn't be the one exception.

Like normal, few others came to visit the corridor. The eerie statues, and the out-of-the-way location saw to that. Still, when Harry heard the distant noise of footsteps, he couldn't help tensing.

Fear seemed a perfectly normal reaction. That masked woman; last year, she'd appeared inexplicably, without warning and cast _Crucio_.

Harry couldn't suppress a sigh of relief, as Draco's familiar blonde hair moved into view.

"Harry?" Malfoy said, walking, more purposefully now, closer to the black haired boy.

From a distance, concealed by the stone chimera, a silver serpent watched; not merely one with a silver sheen, but a creature seemingly composed from the element silver itself. A metal snake with a strange resemblance to a serpentine sceptre once held by the masked woman; now alive, and writhing. Watching.

"You got something to say then Potter?" Draco attempted to start the conversation

"Y-yeah," the Boy Who Lived nodded, "About that woman. That cult thing."

Still silent, the metal serpent stirred.

"That," Draco shuddered, "Great, just great Potter. Why do you always go for that stuff?"

"Huh?" Harry blinked, a little taken aback by Draco's sudden outburst.

"Sorry," Draco looked away, in an uncharacteristic display of regret, "Didn't have the best meeting last time."

"What was it?" Harry seemed strangely eager to change the topic, to avoid asking Draco the question. Nerves perhaps? The irony: he'd faced down the Dark Lord, albeit when barely able to think.

The serpent's forked tongue flicked out, in new interest.

"Umbridge," Draco muttered, wincing. "That masked woman? She killed Umbridge."

"Can't be all bad then," Harry snorted, rubbing the back of one hand.

Maybe it was harsh, but that Ministry hag had hardly given him reason for sympathy.

"You weren't there," Draco shot back, barely suppressing a shudder.

That was enough to worry Harry: Draco was hardly one to balk at more unpleasant scenes. He was from a whole family of Slytherins and Death Eaters. Whoever that woman was, her cruelty was truly beginning to scare Harry.

"Wouldn't wish it on anyone," the blonde muttered, pinching his thigh in an effort to block out the memories.

_The serpent in her hand, drawn back, touching her throat. Eyes wide; unable to resist as-_

_Knife pressed against her eye. A sadistic grin; ready to force it down-_

"Why'd you want to talk?" Draco exhaled; a little too quickly, distracting himself.

"Were you at breakfast?"

"Yeah. Oh, the group thing," Draco pursed his lips.

The snakehead in the shadow lifted itself higher, eager to gain a closer look. Mouth suddenly open, fangs poking out; yet still at quite a distance.

"Unsavoury," Harry quoted, "Sounds a lot like that woman."

"True," a bitter laugh from Malfoy, "You go and report us there, if ya think it'll do any good." The Slytherin sounded strangely scathing.

"You think it won't?"

"Naïve," Draco rolled his eyes, "You might've confronted You-Know-Who but that doesn't change about you. She killed Umbridge and _enjoyed_ it Potter, if you think complaining to the staff is going to do any good, you feel free. Don't be disappointed when it turns out to be pointless."

Draco got to his feet, stretching. The serpent watched; pointing its maw towards the distant Slytherin.

"You could help," Harry murmured; strangely hopeful

"Yeah, right," a scornful laugh

"Scared?" A challenge

"Of course," Draco span around; the sudden movement enough to disorientate the snake. "You're a Gryffindor, you go and face your fears. I stop them being a fear."

"You help them?" Harry was torn between disgust and anger

"I hide. Sometimes right next to them." Sparks shot from the tip of Malfoy's sheathed wand; an echo of his frustration. Anger.

"That's just-" Harry began.

Draco's fuse burnt out; just as the serpent focused on the blonde once more. Draco snapped out one final put down, and his hasty, semi-guilty, turn-away may have saved life.

"At least my parents are still alive," the blonde curled his lip. Harry hesitated, mid-speech, shocked that the Slytherin would even say that.

A sudden explosion on the arching spell that erupted from the statue's wand; Harry looked up at it. Draco didn't even turn.

There was a chip in the stone; more than that. A crack spread straight through it, and Harry quickly darted backwards, avoiding the small stone-fall. Seconds ago, Draco's head would have covered the damaged point of the statue.

It had missed. The serpent began to slither, to take aim on the Boy Who Lived also: yet it hesitated, a command within its mind.

_Later…_

The silver serpent turned, slithering away.

O

"So, that's the group," the Doctor grinned, finally feeling closer to solving the problem.

Harry Potter sat on a seat in the converted classroom. Around him, there were a few tables littered with a seemingly random assortment of reference materials; some children's' books, some scientific papers, most seeming historical. Harry noted one, still open, just in front of the Doctor: it looked like a book of mythology. A pop-up satyr sprang from the page.

"Oh, ignore Pan," the Doctor said, noticing Harry's focus on the pop-up book. The Time Lord patted the small satyr fondly; a strange, ten-centimetre creature, with goat legs, a human's upper body, not unlike a centaur, only with a more humanoid frame (two legs, however furry) and a pair of small, goat horns.

The pop-up, for a split second, seemed to turn up, to face the Doctor. Then, the thin paper figure drew itself back down to the brightly coloured pages of the book, muttering to itself.

"Oh, alright, no need to complain," the Doctor spoke down to the paper figure he'd called Pan. The Time Lord looked apologetically at Harry: "Twenty second century pop-up books; started incorporating AI, but they're real whiners."

The black haired boy blinked, understandably unsure of how to respond.

"So," the Doctor began, "There's a cult in the Room of Requirement."

"Y-Yeah," Harry nodded; feeling a momentary pang of guilt. He'd sold Draco out, well, hopefully he'd prove that the teachers would actually be able to do something about that woman. "How do you know about the room, sir?"

"Don't call me sir," the Doctor seemed serious for a moment, before again perking up; "I know a lot of things. No, wait, that sounds creepy, Well, I do anyway."

"Doctor?" A moment's hesitation. The Boy Who Lived spoke nervously; "Can I go now?"

"What?" the Time Lord frowned, "Oh, yes, yes, sure. Unless you've got something else to say?"

Again, Harry found himself unsure of what to do. He could mention Draco, give the Doctor all the information he knew. Yet, somehow, he felt a twinge of loyalty to the blonde; even after their last meeting.

"Draco," Harry quickly exhaled; wincing as he did so.

It was a quick, spur-of-the-moment comment. And he regretted it as soon as it was spoken; but he couldn't take it back.

"It's not- um, his fault of anything," Harry quickly continued, trying to stop the Doctor getting a word in (quite an admirable feat, to be sure). "But he's part of it."

"Part?" the Doctor frowned, "How'd that happen?"

"Woman in a mask," Harry muttered, unwilling to say the words.

Just the though of her scared him; even the Doctor tensed. The Time Lord had seen the woman before; and now she was here, creating a cult, and…

"Don't- Don't punish him. It's not his fault at all," Harry babbled; silenced at a nod from the Doctor.

"Of course," the Time Lord smiled; "Trust me. Everyone's been in little, ah, dodgy groups like that. Well, at least he didn't knock a planet of its axis," the Doctor winced, "I hope. Takes forever to fix."

"Thanks," Harry nodded once, grateful, smiling.

It looked like they'd be able to do something after all; rather than just watching and waiting for the masked woman to do something.


	5. Demons

**Hello again! Sorry it was such a long time before this chapter, I was on holiday. Still, while this one probably isn't my best writing, and the characterizations did feel a little off towards the end, hopefully you'll still enjoy. It's a chapter that should be worth the wait.  
>Also, this is not as good as the new series. Just going to say that. There are times I'm jealous of The Moff. The first episode of the new series is one of them.<br>Enjoy! **

Remus Lupin waited in the office; the Doctor had given it to him, for one purpose alone. And that purpose should be on its way.

"Professor?" Draco Malfoy entered the room, looking around. He jumped a little; surprised at seeing Lupin.

"Draco," Lupin nodded once, hesitating himself, unused to dealing with students. It had been a year since his stint as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and in that time many of his skills had been lost: and in any case, these lessons were unrelated to any of the syllabus he'd had to teach. Still, he'd figure things out. Hopefully.

"Why was I called here?" Draco spoke, abrupt

"Occlumency," Remus replied; equally as fast, yet more gentle, informative.

Malfoy frowned; quickly, inwardly berating himself for the weak action. He'd heard the word somewhere, probably from his father, yet he didn't know the meaning. Some kind of magic?

"And what's that?" the Slytherin retorted, as confrontational as he could be with the ex-teacher

"A magic," Lupin paused, "An extremely advanced piece of magic, intended to make your mind your own, and block any incursions."

"Sounds great," the blonde was evidently sarcastic, "Like I'll have a lot of use for that."

"You will," Lupin paused again, for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal. Moments later, his inner, wolfish nature took over, and he rolled on. "You've been with that woman in the mask. She's, ah, someone you'd want to keep a few secrets from, I gather."

Draco fell silent. Nothing to say.

Anger at Harry momentarily rose in his head; quickly extinguished by a small shower of guilt. He could hardly be surprised; Draco cringed at the memory of his dismissive remark to the Boy Who Lived.

How was he to know how much the death of a parent hurt? It had never happened to him.

And in any case, things looked somehow promising. He'd learn a new piece of magic, and get a chance to get back at the hag. Malfoy shuddered, unintentionally reminding himself of Umbridge's torturous last moments.

"You want me to be a spy," Draco was just guessing; yet he stated it as fact. Flat.

Lupin once more hesitated.

As a werewolf, Remus had always thought of himself as good at keeping secrets; not a good thing, more a necessity. That was one of the reasons he'd been suggested to teach Draco Occlumency. Who better than someone who practically lived in such a state of secrecy?

Instead, Draco had figured out what was, in essence, their aim. The Doctor had initially been against it, but the Order of the Phoenix, ever-intent on the safety of not only Hogwarts, but the people in the world at large, overrode the Time Lord.

They were sealed within Hogwarts, by the strange heat-barrier. The Doctor's TARDIS was the only way in and out; and even that was hardly practical. By the end of the year, all the students would be trying to leave. Even the titanic interior of the TARDIS probably couldn't handle all those; well, it might be able to, yet not without clear risk, and a colossal waste of time.

That was if the students were even alive by the end of the year. The Doctor had been perpetually pessimistic about their hopes.

They needed to stop the woman, and whatever it was she was doing with that cult. The Order knew it; and in consequence, it seemed Draco was their latest member.

"We don't have a choice," Lupin's expression was pained; he knew all to well the burden of ugly necessities. He went through it every month. "Do you have any reason to trust her?" he was clutching at straws; desperately trying to make Draco agree.

"I never said I wouldn't help," Draco broke into an almost savage grin. Revenge. Some way to get back at the woman. To stop her.

"Good," Lupin exhaled, shortly, relieved. "Every Thursday after Potions. Come here; say it's advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts. Which it is, in a way."

O

The Doctor had summoned the Order; he'd called a meeting. While the Time Lord had the right to do so, he rarely exercised the privilege. As such, when he did call, everyone listened intently.

Minutes later, the Order sat in his room; Amy and Rory, in his own body for once, among them. The Doctor was at the head of the room, grinning, holding an old fashioned teacher's pointer, and with a flickering slideshow behind him; powered by some kind of magic.

"Have to use the slideshow," he explained, "That's how I did it last time," still grinning.

The Doctor paused for a few moments, looking over his audience, making sure everyone was there. The Order of the Phoenix, perfect.

Even though the Order's primary function was to resist Voldemort, they'd been more than willing to help against the masked woman. And with the sheer certainty the Doctor felt as to their foe, they really could do with that help.

"Right then," the Doctor clapped his hands together, "Slide one."

A sketched image of a satyr appeared on the wall behind him; two long, shaggy goat-legs, supporting the upper body of a tanned, hairy, muscular man. Short, brown hair covered wild features; and poking from beneath that hair, were two, curled horns.

"Pan," the Doctor brushed the pointer up the image, "Greek God of shepherds, and the wild in general. Very nice, makes a decent cuppa," he ran the pointer up, lingering on the two, curled horns. "Remember these," his voice fell to a more serious tone.

The slide clicked on. This time, a coloured painting of a being was present; 2D, a sideways view of what appeared to be a dark-skinned man, completely human save for his head; the head of a ram, with long horns extending from the dark-blue depiction.

"Khnum," the Doctor tapped the image, "Egyptian God of the Nile. Note the horns again."

Click. The slide moved to a similar looking human picture, this time with the head of some unidentifiable, rabbit-like creature.

"Sutekh," the Doctor tapped the photo. "No horns, just really annoying. And unrelated."

Click. An easily recognizable figure popped up on the screen; leathery, red skin, wide, bright eyes, a long, curling forked tale, and long, thick horns, outlined by fire.

"And, of course, the Devil," the Doctor twirled the pointer, "Who, by the way, has _really _bad breath. I mean, _really_ bad." He made an expression of distaste.

Once more, the pointer explicitly stopped on each of the curled horns.

The slide clicked once more, and then flickered out. Over.

Silence reigned in the room for a time; no one sure of what to say. The Doctor had narrated the slideshow with such burning intensity that no one had the heart to tell him that it seemed completely unrelated.

"Doctor," it was Amy who sighed; "What does this have to do with anything?"

"Horns," the Doctor tapped the wall with his pointer, despite the lack of any slides. "They've been a sign of power in human mythology since man began. Ever wondered why?"

Click. A slide popped back up; this one of a new figure; a fearsome, once more satyr-like beast. Humanoid, with thick, furry goat legs, an unkempt hairy chest, and messy, long dark hair. A beard of maroon hair, so dark it was almost black, around a contorted, muscular face; one that seemed locked in a perpetual scowl. Two, featureless, long horns sprouted from the front of its head.

"Azal," the Doctor tapped the image, "A Daemon, from the planet Daemos. One of a race of creatures that have been visiting you humans for years; first off, helping you fend of Neanderthals, then helping you lot evolve. It's all an experiment to them; of course, they still leave traces."

Click: the slideshow skimmed through all the previous, horned creatures, and several other, unknown deities.

"And their technology, they call it magic. Of course, it's not really magic, magic doesn't exist, but still-" It was at that point Amy coughed, interrupting the Doctor's monologue. The Time Lord ignored her, rambling on; "Arthur C Clarke, lovely chap, 'any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic', so nothing impossible like actual magic there. Ok, so-"

Amy coughed again. The Doctor rolled his eyes; "What is it Pond?"

"We're in Hogwarts," she enunciated clearly.

"Yeah, we are," the Doctor nodded. "Anyway, that's what we're up against. I met them before; charming little village, except for the vicar who was really an evil guy with a dodgy beard, but that's not the point. Waves of heat on Beltane, and a wall of heat stopping anyone getting in or out of the village. Sound familiar?"

"Bell what?" Amy frowned; the only one speaking, mostly due to being used to the bizarre ideas the Doctor was putting forward.

"Beltane," the Doctor repeated, "Pagan ceremony; day of power for the Daemons. Long story; happens in May. Second greatest; first place would have to be Samhain, and guess when the wave of heat happened?"

"Halloween," Amy replied

"Exactly," the Doctor shrugged; "Same thing. There are three summons; and on the third, everything happens. The Daemon will either transfer their powers to someone they see as worthy, or destroy the planet Earth as a failed experiment."

A long pause.

"So," Sirius began, slowly, "Something that looks like the devil, and can do magic better than our 'non-existent' spells, and can destroy the planet. Am I missing anything?"

"Um," the Doctor frowned, counting off on his fingers, "It can animate statues, fire lightning bolts from its hand, shrink things to microscopic levels, or make them grow to immense size, which emits heat, um, and sees the world through cold logic. Yeah, that's about it."

Yet more silence; unsurprisingly so.

The Order found themselves believing his fantastic tale; for all the Time Lord's faults, he was rarely one to make up dangers, especially not one as elaborate as this. The Doctor had always been trustworthy; he hadn't lied to them. Why would he start now?

"You met them before?" Rory said, thinking, "What happened then?"

"Well, another Time Lord, irritating guy called the Master, created his own little cult of humans. Fear; that's a negative emotion, and an energy source for Daemon science. He summoned Azal, last of the Daemons. Scared the life out of him too, come to think of it. Don't blame him. And then Azal died, and I'd really rather not repeat that method. Could go catastrophically wrong." The Doctor drew in a deep breath.

"How did you do it?" Rory sighed at the Time Lord's typical vagueness

"Spoilers!" the Doctor grinned, pausing, "That's actually a lot of fun to say. I can see why she likes it…"

"Doctor," surprisingly, it was Kingsley who spoke, "Did you say that Azal was the last of the Daemons? How then can one be summoned now?"

"Ah, well then, time issues, it happened in- ah, the past. Good point. I'll let you know when I have an answer," the Doctor grinned, only slightly flustered.

Once more, there was silence. Partly from the fact they had nothing to say, and partly in response to the Doctor's, slightly mad, description of these new foes.

Though none would admit it, they were worried: even the normally resolute Doctor seemed to feel distant flickers of fear when discussing the Daemons. To top it all off, they had to contend with the masked woman; a stranger, a sadistic witch, who was intent on corrupting several Hogwarts students it seemed, as well as summoning one of the long-dead Daemons.

"So, Remus," the Doctor clapped his hands together, instantly perking up. "What about Draco? You're teaching him Occlumency, right?"

Several people in the Order blinked, unaware of the plan. Only the more senior members of the Order had been told the plan, simply because they themselves were masters of Occlumency and could be trusted with the knowledge.

The Time Lord had just single-handedly ruined that.

"Oh, don't be so boring," the Doctor waved his hand at McGonagall's annoyed face, "No need to keep that many secrets. Besides, if she starts reading all our minds, that's the least of our worries. If we start to keep secrets from each other, when will it end?"

Minerva raised her shoulders haughtily, about to respond. Before she could however, Lupin spoke, trying to prevent the explosion of the tension between them.

"He is most adept," the werewolf said, voice measured, normal, "Surprisingly talented. I must say, I wasn't expecting such skill from a Fifth Year."

"He's a Slytherin. Good at keeping secrets," Sirius muttered

"Enough," McGonagall snapped at the ex-prisoner, "Just because Severus is not here, does not mean you can insult him."

"Good," the Doctor grinned, ignoring the exchange between McGonagall and Sirius

"He said he is willing to help us," Lupin continued. "Though I am not happy with putting any student in such danger."

It was at that point Tonks interrupted the conversation, by willing her nose to grow. Within a few seconds it was almost a metre long; and she poked Lupin with it, purposefully. The ex-teacher looked around, blinking once, startled by the sudden transformation.

"I think he's right." Sirius said, "We don't need to put him in danger. Find some other way."

Tonks rolled her eyes, this time transforming her head into a wolf's.

"You can talk, Sirius," she remarked conversationally, through long, lethal-looking fangs and a fiercely pointed snout, "Didn't you spend your school nights running around with a werewolf?"

"That's different," Sirius shook his head. Tonks, human again, raised her eyebrows. And then she morphed her face, raising them about ten centimetres higher.

"We let him," Moody grunted, before Tonks could pull any more, mildly disgusting, tricks. "He volunteered. What more can we ask for? These Daemons, never heard of `em, but it sounds like we could use all the help we have."

* * *

><p><strong>Final author's note: the Daemons are not mine. They come from Robert Sloman's and Barry Letts' imagination, in Jon Pertwee's (Third Doctor's) era, the episode 'The Daemons'. <strong>


	6. Second Hell

**A fair bit of the Daemon side of this story was inspired by the Jon Pertwee episode, but there are naturally a few twists, in part due to the fact they're in Hogwarts.  
>Quite a bit of story progression this chapter. There are a few moments towards the end I quite like.<br>Well, anyway, enjoy!  
>And for those that are reading my other Doctor Who story, I'll try to update The Grandfather soon.<strong>

Rory looked out of Dumbledore's eyes, into Dumbledore's eyes. The two mirror images, staring at each other. Motionless, as if trying to coax the Voice out of the other.

No speaking; not this time. He'd yelled at it seconds ago; now he'd learnt from that. The anger, the tension that the Voice raised within him, Rory was doing his best to fight it.

Blue into blue. Virtual mirror images watching each other. One was a bit more unruly, had food smudged at the corner of his beard. One was hesitating, thoughtful. Two headmasters.

Moments ago, Rory had tipped over the edge. A shout; a sudden burst of anger, expelled almost unwillingly from his mind. It was the Voice, yet again, but more than the perpetual, synchronized echo of Dumbledore. The Voice in Rory's mind, the whispering, the taunting, the constant Voice. The Voice sparking all kinds of fury in his normally peaceful mind.

From a distance, the side of the room, the ghost of Rory watched. It could recall this time; the ordeal of the Voice. The darker side of himself, tempted, brought forward for brief, wrong moments.

The spectre drifted forwards, expression impartial; a quirk perfected after centuries. Gradually, emotions and moods faded, when almost every possible event had played itself before your eyes, through the centuries, their effect faded.

"You'll survive, trust me," the ghost spoke, circling the two Dumbledore figures once, before departing.

Silence in the headmaster's office.

The Doctor's voice; a call, to a meeting of the Order.

And then, with a glare down at the other, one Dumbledore rose to his feet, leaving the room, unable to bear the presence of the other any more.

O

Harry lead the DA meeting up to the Room of Requirement. Finding himself strangely looking forward to the class, he eagerly slipped into the mystical room.

He noticed something was wrong immediately; instead of the familiar classroom, he'd ended up somewhere very different. Nowhere threatening, just somewhere…strange.

It was a storeroom, plain, dull, bare stone walls covering a tiny area. In front of him, there was a large blue box, right from the floor to the ceiling. Small textured, wooden blue made up what looked like a door; and a line of black bore the words 'Police Public Call Box', just near the top. A small lamp was just visible on the roof.

Frowning, Harry stepped back, leaving the Room. He'd ended up in the wrong place; strange.

Again, the Boy Who Lived re-entered the magical chamber; this time, he walked into the familiar, correct classroom.

He let the mistake fall from his mind, dismissing it as irrelevant.

O

The talisman was burning again.

Christmas morning, Draco had been awoken by the small, snakehead amulet the masked woman had given him; once more active, once more calling a meeting. One more assembly to summon whatever beast they had called before.

Steeling himself, remembering all the Occlumency lessons with Lupin, Draco got to his feet.

The cult wasn't loyal; that was a fact truly easy to see. Fear, while being a key component to the 'spell' to summon the Daemon, was far stronger if one felt like they'd be a victim at any moment. The masked woman encouraged that; she relished it, and she struck a deeper fear into them with the degrading death of Umbridge.

The newcomer, the Doctor, had taken over Dolores' role as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. The masked woman had scowled at that news, yet she seemed willing to let the Doctor live. Temporarily.

Or maybe she doubted her ability to kill the Doctor.

There was no question about it, she wanted to kill him. It seemed however, she had been warned. Maybe even commanded. Don't confront the Doctor: it's too much of a risk.

The woman's, almost, fear of the Doctor allowed Draco to practically enjoy the man's lessons. He was unorthodox, quirky, yet trustworthy. Even more trustworthy considering the woman's reluctance to duel him, despite her obvious wish.

Fear seemed to be the common theme in the cult. The masked woman inspired terror in them all, and even she was afraid of that Doctor.

The constant rush of dread was enough. It was enough to power the ritualistic Daemon science, and enough to call forth the distant, long-dead Daemon. The Doctor didn't know how the woman called a member of an extinct species to Earth: Draco didn't even know that it should be impossible, let alone how it was managed.

Upon his arrival at the Room of Requirement, Draco was watched by two, smooth, silver eyes. The metallic serpent, brought to life by the Daemon. The silver, forked tongue flicked out; and it observed the Slytherin.

"Boy!" the woman's dominating, insane voice echoed over the black marble; focused on Draco, despite the sidelined, watching students. The rest of the cult. "You have betrayed us!"

Malfoy stiffened; thoughts whirling. Inwardly, he secured his mind, relying on Occlumency, hiding all knowledge of the Order he had; and of his brief chat with Harry.

"I haven't," calm, confident. A trace of the classic sneer, a trademark of Malfoy's. A few Slytherins found themselves believing him; even against the woman's fury.

"Don't lie to me," her voice shook; not in weakness, but in intensity, rising to a crescendo.

As if summoned by thought, the silver serpent slithered along the black marble. The scraping noise carried through the suddenly quiet room; harsh, ugly.

The creature raised itself, balancing on the tip of its table, shaping itself into the form of a staff. The masked woman gripped it, pointing the snakehead at Draco.

Flash. An explosion seemed to spontaneously erupt on the marble floor, just in front of Draco. The blonde took a sudden, cautious, step back. The soulless eyes of the serpent followed him.

Draco remembered seeing a similar explosion; on the statue, just after the exchange with Harry. So, the snake caused it?

His mind ran through several possibilities, quickly thinking. The woman would have no qualms about killing him, that much had always been obvious. She had no regard for life.

And she knew he'd spoken to Harry; he couldn't lie about that. So, how to make it acceptable? A lie, obviously. Hopefully one he could support with Occlumency. Lupin had mentioned experts at the magic being able to put up false memories, rather than just blocking them all off. Draco hadn't tried it; yet he knew the theory, and he already had a natural talent at it.

Deceit. Maybe not the best skill to have, but a necessary one. It ran in his family. Whatever the case, it should serve him now.

The snakehead squirmed in the woman's vice-like grip, hissing as if her hands caused it pain. It looked at Draco; an explosion in the air pushed him back. It didn't kill him; surprisingly, considering it definitely had the power to do so.

The woman cared nothing for life. Why was she saving him? Dread began to pool in Draco's stomach; with her kind of sadism, death might be the better alternative.

"Traitors," an unstable wail from her pale lips, "Will have the same fate as the meddling Inquisitor."

Umbridge. Draco tensed at the memory; unintentionally wincing at the thought.

"So what?" he shouted. An attempt to try and defend himself; his mind had gone blank of anything else, especially at the threat of Umbridge's torturous death.

Maybe he wasn't noble. So what? He was human. Leave chivalry to be Gryffindors.

The woman dropped the serpent to the floor, with a clang. It began to slither towards Draco: the students around them looked away. They remembered Umbridge's fate: just too horrible to watch.

"I told Harry, so what?" Draco said again. The snake seemed to pause.

"You admit it?" her voice still bore the fierce traces of her perpetual rage, yet there were distinctly traces of more than that. Curiosity? Not enough to stop her, it seemed. The snake continued to move towards Draco: just metres away.

"Of course," he did his best to sound scornful.

Malfoy didn't dare move. He concentrated entirely on his own mind; Occlumency, and guessing how to make her see something false. The approaching serpent meant nothing to him; the woman's bloodthirsty gaze meant nothing, though the signs of a possible relent brought him comfort.

"I want you to kill him," Draco's lip curled; even though he felt sick as he said the words. "L-like Umbridge," hopefully the tiny hesitation hadn't been noticed. "The Boy Who Lived," bitterness clouded his tone; that much wasn't faked, though the bitterness was directed more at the forced lie, and the stupid, stupid thing he said last time they'd met. "He deserves it."

The words left a foul taste in his mouth.

A gamble; unquestionably. Malfoy hoped that the woman didn't want to kill Harry: she'd had enough chances, especially with that serpent running throughout Hogwarts. Whatever the reason, she seemed to want Harry alive. Or maybe she was forbidden from killing him.

A flash of guilt; of panic. There was a flicker of something primal in her eyes, visible through the mask.

No one deserved Umbridge's fate. But was she…considering it?

"Sometime," the masked woman's lips curled into a smile, shifting the metal mask.

She was anticipating it; genuinely looking forward to the day she could kill Harry Potter. Draco felt sick; at his own actions, and her thoughts.

For a moment, an ache passed through his head; a pang, as if someone was reaching into his brain. Was that the spell Lupin had mentioned? If so, she hadn't said it verbally; Malfoy ran his eyes over her. Sure enough, her wand was pointed towards him.

He felt sick; even more now. That…woman was rooting around in his head. Her vile thoughts mixing with his, scanning through them. Her sadistic loathing of Harry looking around his memories.

Draco felt permanently tainted by the brief contact. There were depths of depravity humanity wasn't supposed to reach; and it felt as if the woman had exceeded them just for fun.

Who was she?

For a few moments, Draco was tempted to forego any concentration on his defences, cast a shield charm and browse her mind. He decided against it; nothing could convince him to look into hell. And he had no doubt that was what he'd find behind those dark eyes.

Occlumency; shedding all emotion and all distraction. The world was his mind. Nothing outside. Just his own thoughts. A darkness; and images to put forwards.

"_You could help," Harry said; hopefully, standing by the statue. _

"_Yeah, right," bitter scorn in my voice. Like I'd agree with that pathetic weakling; I'm glad his parents are dead. They deserved it. It was time to finish the job; kill the last of the Potter family. Or make him die. _

"_Scared?" Harry again; how presumptuous, how utterly detestable. You haven't seen fear yet. You haven't experienced true fear; I want to see it in your eyes, when the serpent comes-_

Draco felt vile thinking the words; yet he didn't have the luxury of expressing that hatred. Instead, he had to allow the venom to wash through him; descending so far into it he'd nearly convinced himself.

When the woman departed his mind, grimly pleased, Draco couldn't quite hold back a breath of relief.

He wasn't the only one; as the metal snake turned away, slithering up to the woman, there was a general sigh of relief among the cult. No need to watch another spectacle like Umbridge's gruesome demise.

"I've summoned you again!" the masked woman was still facing away from them, walking towards the central altar and the stone snake in the floor. She spread her arms either side of herself; voice thrumming with anticipation. "Vetis will come once more!"

Her cry was rife with unmistakable insanity.

Calling hell to Hogwarts once more. The cult moved into a circle; the same shape as before.

Though they didn't know it, they were in the right positions to focus all their fear on the central pedestal, and the generator concealed within. The chemicals, each producing small bangs and flashes, thrown onto the altar amplified the energy, until it called the one specific Daemon to Earth.

From the stone snake on the floor, a deep rumbling began; building up to a quake which threatened to bring the whole room crashing down. Laughter; the woman's. It echoed; and a blistering, scorching wave of heat once again emanated, spreading throughout the whole of Hogwarts as before.

Step. Step. Step.

A thud; hooves on marble. Growing louder, and growing slower.

From the stone serpent, a creature was growing, increasing in size as it paced in a circle.

Soon it was clear why the Room of Requirement had such a high roof; the beast summoned was immense. Step, step, step. It continued to grow, swelling in size, emitting a renewed burst of burning energy with each movement.

"Vetis!" a final cry; an exultation from the central, masked woman.

It was strange; no, more than that. It was just plain unsettling. The woman relished the arrival of Vetis: the monstrous fiend who held no regard for life, who saw humans with the same indifference one might look at an unimportant experiment. Most of all: the Daemon brimming with sheer power; and power he could give away.

The masked woman seemed to see herself in him. A chance for such power, combined with the Daemon's casual superiority. The two were terrifyingly similar.

"I am Vetis," the deep, booming rumble, as powerful and compelling as orogeny.

The Daemon lowered his arms in a semi-violent, savage gesture, throwing the claw-like hands down to his sides. A reddened, tanned, muscular chest was visible, deep scars trailing down the bulges, with one forked line curling up; a distance of several metres from below his ribs to the top of his neck. The face was a similar shade, covered in a short, yet thick, layer of what could best be described as fur. Two symmetrical scars ran, crescents, over his cheeks. Self inflicted? It seemed the only way such a designed pattern of hurt could be present.

The face of the Daemon was covered with muscles, similar to its chest; creating the impression of a perpetual scowl, deep-set eyes glaring out. As was normal for the species, two, long, featureless horns protruded from the front of its forehead; yet small cracks were just visible, running through the ancient ivory.

Vetis had been involved in something distinctly violent. A war amongst the Daemons? Something similar to that would seem to be the only explanation for such injuries.

Or maybe it was more self-caused damages: the Daemons seemed to revel in being imposing. Such physical disfigurements might be like simple make-up to them. With the power they seemed to possess, the forbidding arms, the threatening horns; they all seemed superfluous.

"This is the second summoning. I will come once more," Vetis cut the air with his hand. Such forms of expression seemed to be casual for the Daemon. "State the reason for the call."

Draco tensed at Vetis' voice. There was no anger in it; that was the worst. The voice full of enough power to crush him, the voice that sounded like the whole planet was quaking, falling apart: it was completely devoid of any emotion.

"Your power," the masked woman spoke; instead of the unstable shouts so common to her, she spoke with a hushed almost-reverence. "You can give it to the one most worthy."

"Yourself?" a booming laugh; utterly emotionless, yet utterly devastating. "You are nothing to the Daemons."

"No," the masked woman shook her head; tangled hair staying roughly in place. "My Lord. He is the greatest human, the most worthy of any power."

Draco stiffened at that; though he didn't dare move, didn't dare break the circle.

The woman was working for another? A greater threat? Who was that? Forget that: who was she, in the first place?

"There is one other," Vetis rumbled after several silent seconds. "In this very castle. He too is worthy of power."

"None is as worthy," the woman shook her head; her eyes flashed dangerously.

If anyone could inspire an emotion other than anger in the woman, her Lord appeared to be it. She spoke with a reverence bordering on a twisted love. Worship even.

"No human, perhaps," Vetis rumbled once more. "He is not."

Malfoy stiffened further. Not only was the woman bargaining for the Daemon's near unlimited power, for her own, unknown master, but there was someone else in Hogwarts, worthy of power, who wasn't even human. Draco just knew it wouldn't be Hagrid: and the ghosts probably still counted as human. So who could it be?

"I shall think on it," Vetis looked down at the woman; there was an echo of pride, of superiority in his eyes. The only emotion yet displayed.

The Daemon vanished, abruptly, suddenly, seemingly shrinking down to a microscopic level. The second hellish coming of the Daemon had passed.

There would be just one more.


	7. Behind The Mask

**A little humour this chapter.  
>As a side note, the mini-adventure mentioned this chapter was one I just made up. In any case, I don't think my writing was the best towards the end, but hopefully you'll still like it. Enjoy!<br>As a side note, to reviewer westwindhowl, thanks for the review! I'll try to make Amy a little more major; the problem is the number of storylines I have going on, it's hard to give everyone a big role. And trust me, I'm not keeping it all straight in my head, I've got a document made up of notes that's three pages long!**

The merry Christmas season had past; ruined only slightly by the wave of heat that washed through the castle. The Doctor had gone pale at the time; the Daemon had been called again. The second of three summonings. January had come quickly, with no one willing to mention the unexplained heat.

Amy sat on the TARDIS floor, swinging her legs off the edge as the Doctor flicked through a series of books below the glass floor.

"Hey, Doctor!" Amy called, "Are you actually going to do anything? Other than flicking through books?"

"Hey! Books are good," the Doctor looked up, after literally flicking through the pages, putting the book down after just two seconds

"Not when you flick through them that quickly," Amy rolled her eyes, muttering to herself

"Humans," the Doctor rolled his eyes, "Such slow readers." He put another several-hundred page book down after a few seconds of flicking

"Time Lords, such show offs," Amy retorted

"Yeah," the Doctor mumbled, distracted, hesitating on the first page of a book. "1971, but that was…"

Before he could finish the sentence, the book physically leapt out of his hands, thumping as it vibrated itself along the floor.

"Amy! Catch that!" the Doctor shouted, eyes wide as the book fled.

Rolling her eyes, Amy jumped off her perch, onto the area just below the glass floor. She landed on the living book, quickly picking it up. A momentary scream escaped her lips as the book acted as if it were trying to bite her, opening and shutting rapidly between her hands, pages rustling and shaking.

The Doctor darted up, running the sonic screwdriver up and down the spine. Several seconds later, it slowed; and the Doctor sighed in relief.

"What was that?" Amy said; more a statement of disbelief that the Doctor was carrying such a thing around in the TARDIS, than a real query.

"1971," the Doctor muttered, "A few books were treated with a special alien chemical, in an effort to murder the intellectuals of Earth, leaving it open for an alien invasion. Only problem was, they picked the biggest flop in the whole of literature to infect. This one must've snuck aboard," he patted the book fondly.

"And why are you reading all this?" Amy blinked, looking around at the piles and piles of books. They varied wildly, from books of myths and legends, to romances, to horror, and Amy was sure she even saw a copy of _Winnie The Pooh_.

"Research," the Doctor grinned, twirling on the spot, before darting forwards and picking up _Winnie The Pooh_.

"On?" Amy blinked, looking around at the books. They seemed to have nothing in common.

"Daemons, of course," the Doctor looked at the redhead shocked, she'd think it was something else, "I've told you, they've been coming to Earth for centuries. That kind of interference leaves traces."

Amy paused, before responding; looking around at the arrays of books. They seemed to have next to nothing in common. Books on mythology did seem to have an obvious link, and, Amy supposed, a few of those horror novels might be related, but then there were the romances, the children's books, and some that looked more like picture books, than any real novel.

"Right," Amy prolonged the word, sceptical. "How many Daemons are in _Winnie The Pooh_?"

"More than you think," the Doctor looked up, voice brimming with seriousness, eyes urgent. "Ever wondered why Eeyore's always so sad? Why Piglet's always scared? When Tigger arrived, do you know what he was running from? Do you know who keeps stealing Rabbit's vegetables? And, most importantly," the Doctor hesitated, dropping his voice to a whisper; "Who stole all the honey?"

A pause. Amy just stared into the Doctor's emotional eyes, silent, something between bemusement and horror in her eyes.

"I think you've just ruined my childhood," she eventually said.

"Yeah, well," the Doctor muttered, hesitant, "Don't be so quick to judge."

He returned to the child's book, grinning like a madman as he flicked through the pages. As he got to the end, he frowned, and went back to the start. Several seconds later, Amy hit him.

"Ow!" he looked up, hurt, at the redhead. "What was that for?"

"You almost had me believing you," she said, "You're meant to be working, not just reading a book you like."

"Oh," the Doctor's face fell, "You're sure?"

Amy just stared at him.

Several seconds later, like a child who'd just had his favourite toy taken away, the Doctor reluctantly put _Winnie The Pooh_ down.

The Time Lord went back to work, reading through other, more related, stories. While he wasn't looking, Amy picked up the book, found a seat, and began reading it herself.

O

The Great Hall. January, the students were buzzing with the characteristic fervour of the new year, and perhaps something else.

The owls had soared high above, dropping the parcels and letters and gifts, including the latest newspaper, the Daily Prophet, announcing a breakout of Azkaban. A number of Death Eaters had escaped the supposedly inescapable prison; and the screaming, furious, faces on the paper were enough to strike fear into many of the students.

Several Slytherins had the paper flattened, making one of the pages entirely exposed, and clear, on the table: pictures of all the escaped Death Eaters glared out of the pages.

They were pointed at some of them, recounting the trivia they'd learned, naming a few atrocities committed by each, as if it were all a big joke. Laughter, sniggering.

They'd even turned it into a game of sorts; folding over the page, hiding the text describing their past crimes, leaving them to guess what slaughter had been performed by each Death Eater.

"That one," Goyle pointed at a rough-shaven man, "He's brutal, he is. Killed…Fabian someone."

"He's better," another Slytherin, a girl, interrupted, pointing at another image; "Expert at the Imperius curse."

"That one's a Ministry spy though," Goyle pointed at another.

"You should see what he was up to at school," the Slytherin girl pointed at the same picture again: Mulciber

"Rookwood was in the Department of Mysteries," Goyle argued, sounding unintelligent yet possessed with obvious glee at the 'contest'. He tapped the picture of the Death Eater again, "And got caught way after your guy."

"Mulciber actually did something," the girl retorted, "Rookwood stayed in his comfy Ministry position for ages. Hardly a challenge."

"Yeah, but-"

"What's that?" Draco Malfoy interrupted the argument at that point, looking over at the paper.

"Azkaban breakout," Goyle blurted. "Loads got out."

"Did they r-" Draco stopped speaking at that point.

He looked down at the paper; eyes wide, pale. His mind had gone blank: instead of thinking of what to say, it had been filled with one thought, one all-consuming thought that wiped all else away.

_No._

His eyes skimmed over the paper; a shiver rippled through him. One thing he thought he'd never see, one thing he'd hoped not to see. But now it was clear.

"Who's that one?" Draco asked, struggling to find his voice again.

Goyle frowned, looking at the picture, he read through the paper, looking up at Draco. He was about to speak when Malfoy snapped.

"Forget it. Give me that," the blonde snatched the Prophet away, marching out of the Great Hall.

He made it about three steps, before he fell onto the wall, trembling.

O

Harry was sitting by the Patronus statue; his first time to this wing of Hogwarts for quite a while. Draco's words last time had stung; he wasn't sure what to say to the Slytherin, indeed, whether they should talk again after it.

The wave of heat had started the change however. Another one; triggered by the woman, if Malfoy was correct. A scorching surge through the castle, creating fear in everyone-yet another inexplicable wave-and the same which had caused the impenetrable barrier around Hogwarts.

The Doctor had helped with the dome; while it was still in place, he was able to transport many things to and from the school. While it was never explained, several students reported seeing a blue box capturing and releasing flocks of owls and people. Then again, some people had also reported trying to sneak into the blue box, while it waited by the shield, and they'd come out saying it was bigger on the inside; so Harry didn't really trust them.

A few had also mentioned falling into a swimming pool, come to think of it. Harry wasn't totally sure what to make of that.

Actually, Harry remembered seeing a blue box; he'd gone into the Room of Requirement, trying to find a way to help Hogwarts, defeat Voldemort, and stop whatever was causing the waves of heat. Instead of the normal Dumbledore's Army classroom, he'd found the police box.

Whatever the case, he'd left the room, and re-entered, to find the old, familiar classroom.

Still, that tall box, comforting blue, unexpected, it reassured him, stayed in his mind. Had the Room consciously chosen for him to see it? Was it an answer to any of his questions?

Stop the masked woman's cult. Stop Voldemort.

Could a box, even if it were bigger on the inside, do that?

Harry shivered, just thinking of it. Since last year, the Dark Lord had been on his mind, almost constantly. The one who killed his parents, now alive again. Somewhere; even if the Ministry was too scared to admit it.

"Hey," a voice brought Harry out of his reverie. Draco's; yet something was off.

The black haired boy looked up at the Slytherin. Malfoy stood there, paler than ever, scared? No, not the right word. Shaken, perhaps. Definitely shaken; as if the world had been taken out from beneath his feet.

The blonde took a few unsteady steps, resting on the pedestal beneath the stone wizard.

"Sorry about-" Harry began

"Oh, shut up," Draco muttered, interrupting tersely. "You Gryffindors, it's all chivalry and ego with you. Don't bloody apologize, I don't care."

Harry hesitated, stopping. He couldn't say anything; Draco was shaken by something, he was taking it out on whatever he could.

It surprised the Boy Who Lived, a lot of the time: the Houses of Hogwarts. Most of the time, you could barely see any difference. And then, small, specific moments, and the divisions become oh so clear. Like now: a Gryffindor would take the blame, a Slytherin would dismiss it. A Hufflepuff would try to allay any misconceptions, a Ravenclaw would think up a solution.

Small things. Harry still found surprisingly little major differences between the Houses.

"Sorry, but I j-" Harry began again.

Draco smacked his wand on the statue; a resounding crack, signalling impatience. For one moment, Harry thought the blonde's wand had snapped; before he saw it, still firmly clasped, intact. Several sparks shot out the end.

"What-" Harry began again, trying to have a decent conversation with Draco, for once, instead of a few words with an irate response.

"I know who she is," Draco said, a clear statement.

Silence. Harry wanted to ask, wanted to gasp, wanted to do any number of things: yet when he tried, he found he couldn't. He didn't want to know; too scared. The small sightings he'd had of the woman were enough to cause that.

Flash. _Crucio_. Flash. _Kill Cedric_. Flash. _Stupefy!_

Everything she'd done had been for harm; sheer joy for her, sheer torture for all else. Draco had mentioned other atrocities, ones Harry didn't want to hear about. The blonde went paler thinking of Umbridge's death; and was she really responsible for the waves of heat?

"Vetis," Draco muttered. "She's summoning some creature called Vetis: that causes all those waves of heat, made a metal snake come to life. I- She wants to kill you."

"I know," Harry closed his eyes, remembering.

_The black graveyard; fleeing from Lord Voldemort, risen again, running for the Triwizard Cup. Almost there; it would take him back to Hogwarts, save him-_

_Flash. The masked woman; stepping out of thin air. "Stupefy!"_

_Harry fell to the dirt, stunned, at the Dark Lord's mercy. The woman sneered across; pleased with herself. Ecstatic._

"She tried to kill me, last year," Harry said, "The Third Task. At the graveyard."

"Of course she would," Malfoy muttered, bitter.

"Why?" Harry frowned. He was about to say more, but stopped. What could he say?

In response, Draco lifted a copy of the Daily Prophet. The latest edition; wordless, the Slytherin threw it towards Harry. The Gryffindor caught it, peering at the page.

Instantly, he froze. That name. He'd heard it before; Dumbledore had mentioned it, a while ago, after consulting some yellow book.

"But that's impossible," Harry murmured; not in outrage, or disbelief, just a quiet statement

"It should be, huh Potter?" Draco rolled his eyes. "Only just escaped, yet she's been here for the last few years. I don't think she cares. Still, it's her wearing the mask."

Harry struggled for something to say; but there was nothing. Just disbelief, anger, fear…

And on the paper, tangled hair swung loosely to the sides of a pale, shouting, insane face. Bellatrix Lestrange glared out at the world.


	8. What Should Happen

**So, a bit of a calmer chapter as the recent revelation. A _bit_. With another mild reference to the Jon Pertwee Daemons story.  
>For the moment before the last part of this chapter, I hope I did it justice, I wanted to do something like it for this book. <strong>

"Hello Draco," the Doctor grinned, as the Slytherin entered his 'office'.

The Time Lord sat behind a cluttered desk, stacked with books and papers with no discernable pattern. On the wall behind him, a notice had been pinned; a tally. Currently, two lines were struck on it; Draco could just make out an untidy scrawl beneath it: '_Third is the final._'

Malfoy couldn't help but realize what he must be talking about; Vetis, that creature Bellatrix was summoning, time after time in the Room of Requirement. Twice so far; once more, it seemed, and that would be 'final'.

Somehow, Draco didn't think 'final' in the case of Bellatrix or Vetis, would be a simple 'goodbye'.

"So, what do you want?" the Doctor beamed, "Fashion tips? Culinary expertise? A history lesson? Believe me, I'm pretty good at all those," he frowned, "Though I do seem to always feel a bit sick whenever I watch the moon landing. Oh well." He brightened; "So?"

Draco frowned for a moment, trying to pick up his train of thought from after the Doctor's babbling.

"You said you wanted to be told. About the group," Draco began, tensing as he spoke.

The image in the Daily Prophet stayed in his mind; Bellatrix Lestrange, Lord Voldemort's most faithful Death Eater, who laughed as she was cast into Azkaban, and who, even now, screamed out of the pages. Draco had heard of her atrocities; family history, for him.

"Yes?" the Doctor sat up; suddenly alert, interested.

"They- we called something; Christmas. She, the woman, she called it Vetis. Huge thing, and it had horns," Draco found himself shuddering at the memory. "They were in my mind," revulsion, "I think that Occlumency trick saved me."

Pause. The Doctor stared across at Draco, something indescribable in his eyes.

"What?" the blonde looked up, irritable

"I'm sorry," the Doctor shook his head, slowly, voce soft. "Really, I am."

"Not you too," Draco rolled his eyes.

"You shouldn't be in this much danger," the Doctor frowned; "None of you should be. It's a Daemon, Draco; an alien. And it really shouldn't be at Hogwarts. Actually, it should be dead; all of them are. So it's impossible; and I don't like impossible things, especially when I didn't cause them."

Impossible; Draco frowned. Well, there was more than one impossible thing going on, not least because of summoning aliens, apparently.

"The woman," Draco said, grimly, "She's trying to get Vetis' power-"

"Yeah, Daemons do that," the Doctor shrugged. "Give power to a successor. And she does not sound like a nice woman, so hopefully she won't end up with it. Probably won't; Daemons always insist on worthy people, and they never see humans as worthy. Well, barely ever."

"It's not for her," Draco interrupted. "I know who she is, and she said the power wasn't for her."

The Doctor sat up; the Time Lord had always thought the woman was somehow, irritatingly, familiar, but with her features hidden behind the mask, he couldn't quite figure it out. Perhaps a perception filter, perhaps he was just thick.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Draco spat the words out. "She says she wants Vetis to give power to her Lord."

The Doctor's eyes went wide.

"Another impossible thing," he muttered. "No, yes, no, maybe? Yes!" He clapped his hands; "Time, it's always time. Daemon summoned through time, and she's travelling in time, getting to Hogwarts before escaping Azkaban. Unless she's really River, always hopping out of jail. Nah, time travel," the Doctor frowned; "Which raises another question. How does she even have time-"

"Doctor," Draco interrupted suddenly, muttering to himself. "A Death Eater said she wanted the Daemon's power for-"

"Yes, yes, her Lord, old Tom," the Doctor mumbled, distracted. "Boring. He's not due in Hogwarts for another couple of years; I'm more concerned with a Daemon, smack bang in the middle of Hogwarts. Well, not quite the middle," he paused for a moment, mumbling to himself, "Smack bang, up a little, and to the left, or right depending on your point of view, from the middle of Hogwarts. Nah, that's not as catchy huh?"

Draco hesitated; the Time Lord seemed to be requesting a response, yet what he was saying was completely irrelevant to anything.

"Uh, yeah," Draco guessed a response. The Doctor frowned for a moment.

"Well, anyway," the Time Lord amended, causing Draco to breathe a sigh of relief, "you're not in any danger, are you? Well, no more than we all are, with Vetis the Daemon on the loose."

"No," Draco shook his head. "Occlumency, as I told you. Kept me safe."

"Good, good," the Doctor murmured, "And you're happy with continuing? I mean, you hardly got a choice, did you? If you don't want to-"

"No," Draco shook his head. "I want to go on."

Strangely, he was telling the truth. Initially, he'd been mildly unwilling, yet now, even knowing who the woman was, knowing he should be more afraid, he found himself almost eager to carry on. The Dark Lord's most feared disciple; and he was happy to face her now, pleased to get the chance.

It was odd, if he thought about it. A few years ago, and he'd have gone out of hiss way to help her. Now, something had changed him; he found himself repulsed by her ideals, hating almost everything she did. Maybe even harbouring dislike for his own family: Death Eaters.

Draco didn't want to think on that; it scared him, to think how much he'd changed over the last few years. How Harry had changed him, in all honesty.

That was how it started; seeking Harry's help once, warning the Potter boy. And it spread, almost became a habit. And now he fought against the woman who may once have been an idol.

"You want to help?" the Doctor queried

Draco nodded.

"You're sure? I don't want to force you, it's totally-"

"I said yes," Draco exhaled suddenly, frustrated. "Do you want me to say 'no' or something?"

The Doctor blinked; "No, sorry," he seemed abashed. "Just unexpected. Not technically meant to happen."

"I'm not what you expected, huh?" Draco muttered dryly.

"Well, no," the Time Lord admitted. "Not for this book at least."

"Blame Harry," Draco muttered, ignoring the Doctor's bizarre turns of phrase. "He changed me," Draco found it strangely easy to be open around this man

"So he did," the Doctor ran his hands back through his hair, "Ok, Draco. Pure speculation. Suppose I could go back, stop everything going wrong. No psycho-centaurs in the Second Year, no killer-Dementors, no random deaths: but also none of the other stuff that happened as a result. Should I?"

"What?" Draco blinked, "Is that even possible?"

"Probably not," the Doctor admitted, "Not yet at least."

Malfoy frowned for a moment, considering his answer in strange depth. Even if it was just a throwaway question (which it didn't sound like, not from the urgency in the Doctor's eyes), and even if it were impossible, it still made the Slytherin think.

Erase all the things that had happened? He almost instinctively said 'yes', just because it felt like the easy thing to say. Save all those lives, stop the perpetual fear that the creatures had caused.

"No," the blonde shook his head. "No," he spoke again, stronger, "It's already happened. `Sides, there was good stuff too."

"Mm," the Doctor nodded thoughtfully. "You know, I just knew you'd say that."

A pause; a silence, confused for Draco's part, contemplative for the Doctor. Then, the Time Lord spoke again, a murmur meant more for his own ears than Draco's.

"So she's changed the timeline for the better. How ironic."

The Slytherin frowned, watching the strange Time Lord. He felt like there was some important comment to make, yet he wasn't sure quite what the Doctor was saying.

Did Draco want to revert to how he'd been before? Was that even possible?

Even if it was, the blonde reflected, he definitely didn't.

O

Valentine's Day; for some reason the Doctor, their substitute Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, had kept Cho Chang busy elsewhere, leaving the rest of the DA in the Room of Requirement.

It was odd, really. The remedial Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons conducted by Harry were hardly a romantic activity, yet many couples had chosen to attend that day. The Death Eaters who'd escaped from Azkaban, the heat-shield over Hogwarts, and the two scorching waves that had roared through Hogwarts. They were enough to put anyone on edge; and so, the number of DA classes had increased.

For Valentine's Day though, the Room of Requirement had decorated itself appropriately, with bright garlands, slightly out-of-place hearts amongst the equipment, and small, golden gramophones which, when hit by a spell, jingled a whimsical melody.

The DA was split into pre-chosen couples, in an effort to make it more like a date for those so inclined. Even though many would have preferred to be out on such an event, they all knew the necessity of being there: even so, several had opted not to attend.

Harry didn't mind; personally, the black haired boy was surprised so many had attended at all.

Shrugging, he demonstrated the shield charm; launching a weak hex at Ginny, and grinning as the fiery redhead deflected it.

"So, that's-" he began

"_Stupefy!_" Ginny shouted, the red light striking Harry. She gasped; eyes quickly going wide, hurrying over to the stunned student; "Sorry, I thought you were going to-"

"Don't worry," Harry sat up, laughing along with the good-natured chortles of the class, not to mention Fred and George. "Just shows, I guess. Don't turn your back."

"Especially on Ginny," George supplied.

Unfortunately, he did just that; turning around to high-five his brother. A moment later, he looked back at his sister, now sporting a rather fetching pair of antlers. Ginny flashed him a grin.

"Right," Harry chuckled, "Now, you guys can practise. You especially, George."

The twin pouted, comically, as the antlers were charmed away by his brother.

The DA fell into their normal routine. An almost instinctual practise, one of a pair firing a curse, the other shielding, before changing roles. Most had more or less perfected the shield charm; but with the sheer amount of danger they faced, it was one that had many purposes. And in any case, it could be quite hard to tell just when to use it.

Ron and Hermione made up one pair; both still, staring each other down, in essence. Ron exhaled, melodramatic. Hermione raised an eyebrow. Then, without warning, she cried out: "_Stupefy!_"

Ron shouted "_Protego!_" an instant too late; he crumpled, momentarily stunned.

Harry and Ginny stood opposite each other, amused at the antics of the others. Fred and George, as always, were paired together; and after a few attempts, Fred soon sprouted antlers startlingly similar to those given to George.

"Do those two ever stop?" Harry observed. Ginny laughed.

"They haven't yet," a pause. She spoke in a rush; "Harry, do you want any help clearing up the room, after the lesson?"

"The room cleans its-" Harry cut himself off, frowning; Ginny knew that. "Of course," he amended. Ginny nodded; smiling gratefully.

They couldn't really focus on talking to each other, after that. Someone unleashed a sudden jet of sparks, which ricocheted from one shield charm to another, leaving a faintly smoky trail in its wake.

Eventually, time extinguished the shooting sparks; and the class returned to their normal actions. Friendly hex; tentative shield.

One or two of the more romantic couples were having more fun, focusing more on the fact it was Valentine's Day than on the lesson. One couple, a Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw, seemed to be firing blossom at each other. Another pair, one hid behind a sudden casted mist, sneaking up to her partner and planting a kiss on their lips.

Eventually Harry sighed; they'd had all the time they could have had. It was the end of the lesson.

Despite his initial misgivings, Harry had found himself enjoying these meetings; like the DA was some sort of second family to him. He was sad every time the lessons were forced to end.

"Ok, everyone," he said, loudly, "That's all we've got time for. You're getting really good though, I think we'll move on to the advanced stuff soon."

It was odd; the DA had started because of Umbridge's pathetic teaching; yet now, even with the teacher dead, it continued. Harry was certain the Doctor knew about the DA; he'd practically said as much to Harry, a while back, telling the black haired boy to continue the club.

There was a cacophony of excited chattering as most of the DA left; yet as promised, Ginny was the last to stay behind.

"Hi," Harry nodded Then, unsure of what to say; "Thanks for coming."

"No trouble," Ginny seemed strangely shy. "Not like there was anything better to do."

"Really," Harry frowned, "It's Valentine's Day, I thought you were with Michael C-"

"We broke up," Ginny shook her head.

"What about Dean-" Harry began again

"Stop it, "Ginny laughed, "You make it sound worse than it is. There's no one."

"Oh," Harry fell silent. He had the feeling he should say something more, had the urge to act on…something inside. He just didn't know what. "Is there-" Harry began

"No," Ginny shook her head. "_No _one."

"`K," Harry hesitated. "I don't want to be ungrateful or anything, but is there any reason you stayed for after the lesson?"

"Well," Ginny laughed again, "Would you believe me if I said the Doctor told me to?"

Harry paused, thinking of the eccentric man.

"Actually, yes," the black haired boy chuckled. "It's the sort of thing he'd do."

"I know," Ginny murmured, amused, "He's obsessed with getting us to talk."

"Yeah," Harry hesitated, momentarily wondering why. What could they actually talk about? He thought on that, and was surprised by quite how much he and Ginny had in common.

"Don't suppose you know why?" Ginny's voice slowed, contemplative.

Was it his imagination, or was the lighting in the Room growing softer? The Boy Who Lived frowned. Both the Doctor and the Room seemed fixated on he and Ginny. Odd.

Not that Harry was indifferent to the redhead; far from it, but she was Ron's sister. It was more or less a necessity that they be friends; and prudence stopped it being any more than that.

Not wishing to continue down that train of thought much further, Harry shook his head, walking past Ginny, to leave the Room of Requirement.

"No, sorry," he made an excuse.

Before he passed the redhead, Ginny reached out with one hand, laying it comfortingly on his arm. Harry stopped; turning to face her.

Her lips were on his; a surprising, sudden move, but not harsh. Soft, hesitant; nervous. It was a couple of seconds before Harry found himself returning the kiss.

O

Amy wandered through the many corridors of Hogwarts. If she remembered the books correctly, Harry was due to fly to the Ministry soon; on a supposed mission to rescue his godfather.

She didn't see how that would be possible, with the 'Daemon's' heat shield still enveloping the castle. A sigh. Why could nothing ever be simple with the Doctor?

As she walked down the long stone passages, more interested in what she'd find than having any specific destination, she failed to notice a movement in the shadows. A glint of silver in the darkness; the scraping of animated metal on cold stone.

A flick of a forked tongue.

Frowning, she looked back; nothing. Well, a small bit of silver behind a torch; but that was just metal, it couldn't move. She put it down to the noise of a distant ghost; it had happened before. In Hogwarts, a glimmer of light behind you was more likely to be a passing spectre than any threat.

A serpent, seemingly made of pure silver, followed her. Animated by the power of the Daemon Vetis, and controlled by the focused mind of Bellatrix Lestrange, the snake slithered onwards. Power swelled in the rounded mouth, in the lethal fangs. Soulless, blank eyes glared.

Flash. Bang.

Amy ducked to the side; just in time. A seemingly spontaneously explosion erupted in the air beside her; the stone floor suddenly chipped, shards flying everywhere.

She'd been saved by a distant silver; a ghost. Rory's ghost; she shivered at the reminder. Her husband was going to die, here, in Hogwarts, at some point. And he'd just prevented her from dying; giving her a warning with a wave of his hand.

She turned; gasping suddenly, almost screaming, at the impossibly alive, metal serpent. It slithered closer; it lunged, fangs bared. Amy hopped back, narrowly escaping another burst of power.

_Hiss_. The forked tongue flicked out; Amy began to turn, running.

Bang.

She was just out of range; that may have saved her life. Still, a burst of energy flung her forwards, about a metre, and the redhead fell to the floor.

The serpent moved ever-closer.

Bellatrix watched through the silver snake's eyes, mouth hanging open in excitement, anticipation. Her own eyes were wide; ecstatic at the coming opportunity.

"Thank you Rory!" the Doctor hopped into her site; attempting to high-five the ghost, and even though his hand passed straight through, the man still grinned, hopping closer to Amy. "Ah," he murmured, eyes focusing on the lunging serpent.

Then the Time Lord did arguably the most bizarre thing he'd ever done. Instead of trying to escape, or sonic, or push the snake away, he opened his mouth and began to softly murmur _Mary Had A Little Lamb_.

The snake stopped in its tracks. Indecision? It trembled, with the unforgiving voice of Bellatrix urging it forwards, and the Doctor's strange incantation seemingly warding it off.

And then, after many tense seconds, the snake stopped. With one last venomous glare at the Doctor, it turned, hastily slithering away. In the Room of Requirement, where Bellatrix stood, a curse shattered the marble floor.

"What was that"? Amy murmured groggily, struggling to sit up, sore from her fall.

"Scared it off," the Time Lord grinned, getting to his knees, reaching out a hand to help the redhead

"That was a nursery rhyme," Amy mumbled, blinking

"A magical one," the Doctor grinned; "Well, it might have been, for all the snake knew. Superstition."

"A superstitious, metal snake," Amy enunciated, sceptical. "That was brought to life by magic that isn't really magic, despite being in Hogwarts." The sarcasm in her voice was evident; even to the Doctor

"A 'thank you' would be nice, one of these days," the Doctor mumbled, helping the redhead up nonetheless.


	9. Final Hell

**Nearing the end now, so it's getting dramatic. Sorry it took so long, for some reason I couldn't upload the chapter yesterday.  
>Enjoy! <strong>

Dumbledore stared at Dumbledore.

"I told you to stop," one spoke; voice slow, struggling. Anger, frustration resplendent in his tone.

Silence. Blue stared into blue; the speaking Dumbledore stood. A practised motion; yet unsteady, cautious. His elderly frame trembled.

_I told you to stop._ An echo; voice dragging, trying to resist the urge to repeat. The Dumbledore on the floor was perfectly still as he spoke those words.

The headmaster of Hogwarts sneered down; body strangely tensed. The words from the man's lips seemed out of character, out of place.

"I could have killed you weeks ago," pause, "I should have."

_I could have killed you weeks ago. I_- it caught in the kneeling man's throat, _I should have_.

A dismissive, cruel smile played unnaturally at the lips of the standing wizard.

As he watched, the lower Dumbledore seemed to morph, changing, flesh rippling. The white beard retracted, and his crown of pale hair darkened, shortened, until it was brown, and only a few centimetres long. A much younger face stared up, helpless, paralyzed by the grip of the Voice.

The Polyjuice Potion had faded.

Rory stared forwards, helpless, at the Voice-controlled Dumbledore.

"I need your DNA for Polyjuice, and I need your body to stop any suspicions," the Voice said, bitter, from Dumbledore's lips. "You're lucky. You're very, very lucky."

Albus Dumbledore, possessed entirely by the Voice, turned, and with an uncharacteristic stiffness, marched out of the Office. Behind him, left there, poor Rory echoed the Voice's words.

_You're very, very lucky_.

He didn't feel it.

O

"_Crucio!_" a high, cold voice spoke; on the floor, Sirius Black screamed, writhing.

Harry stared, unable to believe it, shaking in fear; yet he felt the edges of Voldemort's excitement. The black haired boy could barely stand to look at his godfather, brought to such extreme agony by the Dark Lord.

"You'll have to kill me," Sirius whispered, defiant despite his pitiful state.

A droplet of blood curled past his eye, leaving a trail on the already red skin. Unblinking; Sirius watched his tormentor.

"Undoubtedly I shall, in the end," Voldemort's high, cruel voice spoke from what Harry felt to be his own lips, "But you will fetch it for me first, Black. You think you have felt pain thus far? Think again… We have hours ahead of us, and nobody to hear you scream."

Harry saw a pale hand descend; a flash of light shot from the wand-

And he awoke, screaming, scar burning, in the middle of the Great Hall. Exams were supposed to be going on; but they'd ceased to mean anything, with the prospect of Sirius at Voldemort's mercy.

All thought of OWLS left his mind. All thought of Vetis, or Draco, or the DA. All thought of the Order of the Phoenix; gone. Replaced by a burning desire, a _need _to leave Hogwarts, save Sirius.

Ignoring the sudden clamour around him, the black haired boy got to his feet. With no words, other than the obligatory "I'm fine," he began to pace out the Hall, steps resounding in the silence.

For a moment, it looked like the teachers were going to try and stop him; yet he noticed, from the corner of his eyes, the Doctor lift a hand, gesturing for them to stop.

The teachers obeyed. Despite the Doctor's newness to Hogwarts, he seemed to carry a presence which commanded respect, awe even, though he rarely ever admitted such a thing.

"I'm sorry," the Time Lord murmured, in little more than a croak. Harry barely heard him.

It was several minutes later, in the grounds of Hogwarts, now accompanied by Dumbledore's Army (despite his initial reluctance), that Harry faced a greater challenge than the exams: just _how _were they going to get out of Hogwarts?

The heat shield, apparently caused by the Daemon Vetis, was still in place. Still resolutely there, refusing entry and exit to Hogwarts.

Ginny stood close to his side; Ron and Hermione a little further back. Luna and Neville were the next in line, along with a few other members of the group. Unable to do anything.

Even with the doubt many felt about the reality of Harry's vision, all were willing to accompany the Boy Who Lived. It was only a few however, who were willing to accompany the unsure Harry Potter.

Regardless, Vetis' barrier kept them imprisoned.

O

Draco had just finished an exam, and was looking forward to a few moments of relaxation, when he turned so much paler than normal.

It took a quick, cursory glance to confirm that it wasn't a mistake. Just visible through the crowd, Crabbe stood, eyes wide, skin pale in almost-fear, before pushing his way out of the huddle.

Genuinely afraid, Draco reached into his pocket, and retrieved a burning talisman. A snakehead, fangs curled so as to look like the horns of a Daemon.

Bellatrix Lestrange was calling them again.

And it could only mean one thing; it was time for the third and final summoning of Vetis.

For a few moments, Malfoy contemplated simply not going, staying where he was, though he discarded that thought soon. Umbridge's fate still haunted his mind; and Bellatrix still doubted him. Draco did not want to risk the same fate as the once Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Trying in vain to steady his frantic breath, Draco struggled his way out from the exam crowd; to the stairs, and ready to ascend to the Room of Requirement.

The talisman stayed in his palm; Draco held it tightly in his hand. He ignored the arrow; he knew the way. Still, it stayed in his hand. A reminder; despite the burning metal, and the pointed edges, he endured.

The was the last time the Daemon would be called to Earth, apparently. Now, its power would be given to the 'Lord' of Bellatrix Lestrange. It could only be Voldemort.

"Draco?" the blonde bumped into another man. Frowning, he looked up; the Doctor.

"Sir," the Slytherin exhaled, "It's Bellatrix, she's-"

"The final summoning," the Doctor rolled his eyes. "Of course it'd be now. Just had to be."

"Huh?" Malfoy frowned. The Doctor had guessed Vetis would be summoned today?

"Harry's heading out for the Ministry," a pause, "If he can get past the heat shield. I was going to help with that, wasn't I? Oh yeah… Well, whatever the Death Eaters say, they're scared of Harry: the only one who almost killed their master. She's gonna want him out the way for number three."

Pause; Draco frowned. Harry would be out of the castle, and a Daemon was being summoned. The Dark Lord himself might even be there.

"What should I do?" Draco spoke, putting a surprising amount of thought into the seemingly mindless statement.

"What?" the Doctor frowned

"I'm going to help," Draco stated, "It sounds like you need it. Might surprise you to know that I do actually care about this castle."

Malfoy surprised himself with that sentence, at least. Looking inside himself, he realized it may well have been true; yet he was rarely so open.

"No," the Doctor shook his head, "No, don't help. Please don't, too risky," the Doctor hesitated, "Last time, another Daemon was summoned. The man summoning it, he even called himself the Master: and he was scared of the thing. Trust me Draco, if there's one species in the galaxy you don't want to get on the wrong side of, it would probably be the Daemons. Well, there are a couple worse, but those ones don't seem to have a _good_ side, so…" he trailed off, frowning.

"You'd rather give the Dark Lord a load of power?" Draco retorted.

Even coming from the Malfoy family, the blonde found the idea frightening; it was wrong to say the Death Eaters served Voldemort through adoration. They might have agreed with a few of his long-term aims, but the one thing that tied them all together, was fear.

Except for one, of course. Bellatrix Lestrange never seemed afraid when she spoke of Voldemort; perhaps because her mind held at least equal cruelty.

"I'd rather no one got hurt," the Doctor muttered

"Yeah, well that's never going to happen," Draco shot back, rolling his eyes.

"Draco," the Doctor sighed, "No need to be so pessimistic. There's a chance, every time, every single time, there's a reason to hope. It's happened before: and if we're lucky, we can make it happen again."

O

The Room of Requirement, in one of its many forms, was black, murky. The marble floor reflected a distant, dim candle; the only source of light, save for a small, eerie luminescence emanating from the serpentine slab.

Bellatrix Lestrange rested on the cold marble, awaiting the members of her cult.

The metal snake slithered up to her; she caressed its scaled head, smiling as it bared its fangs. Almost tenderly. Hissing, somehow, the snake rose, curling around her arm; the Death Eater seemed to smile, pale skin contorting as she watched the silver serpent.

Her mood changed suddenly, as if a switch had been thrown, with no discernable cause. She stood up, slashing at the air with her arm, and sending the metallic serpent clanging along the floor. Thumps resounded as she strode forwards; she cried out a spell, and several other torches lit up, illuminating the room, and giving it an almost gothic feel.

As if on cue, the members of the cult began to nervously enter the chamber.

O

Rory and Amy sat on a stone bench, just outside the outer walls of Hogwarts.

As they watched, the Doctor hurried past in one direction. A few seconds later, he was running back the way he came from.

"Think he's up to something?" Amy murmured offhandedly to her husband.

"Definitely," Rory nodded.

"Knew it," Amy paused. "Should we follow?"

"Probably not," Rory conceded. "Can I ask something now?"

"Sure," the redhead turned

"Are we going to anyway?"

"Of course," Amy hopped up to her feet, soon joined by Rory as she followed the Time Lord.

They went around the corner of the castle, catching sight of a group of students. A group heading further away from the castle; towards the dome of heat which kept them all prisoners in the grounds of Hogwarts.

Rory, still appearing to be Dumbledore, moved ahead of Amy. His appearance would probably necessitate that; he quickly caught up to the Doctor, earning a look of imprecise emotion.

"So, hi you lot," the Doctor spoke as he caught up to the students. "What are you doing here?"

The group was made up mostly of Gryffindors. Harry and Ginny stood slightly apart from the rest; and it was they who moved to speak to the Doctor. It was Dumbledore's Army. A few scaly, winged horses paced near them.

Harry opened his mouth, about to talk, explain about his vision of Sirius, when the Doctor cut in.

"So, at a guess, you'd be heading for the Ministry of Magic to rescue Sirius Black, right?"

The Boy Who Lived blinked once; "Um-"

"And you'd also be trapped by the barrier," the Doctor gestured sideways to the invisible, scorching blockade. "Want any help in getting through?"

Harry hesitated; "You can do that?"

"Yes!" the Doctor clapped his hands, "Well, no, well, kind of. Stay here!"

With that, the Time Lord span around and began running the opposite direction. Rolling her eyes at his indecisiveness, Amy followed, catching up and staying by his side.

"So, what was that?" she prompted

"That?" the Doctor blinked; "Just making sure. As long as Harry can stay there, we can get the TARDIS, and take him over to the Ministry. Problem solved; one of those moments in history that has to happen."

"You're giving them a lift," Amy said, frowning, "Is that all? Problem solved?"

"Not really," the Doctor scratched his head, still running. "Temporal tipping point towards the end, Tom and Albus duel, and if Dumbledore isn't there, then Harry could lose his life."

"Knew it couldn't be that easy," Amy mumbled; remembering her last glimpse of Dumbledore. The headmaster, unable to move, possessed by the Voice, in his office.

By her side, Rory tensed. Just for a moment.

"Oh yeah," the Doctor jumped; "And Bellatrix is summoning Vetis for the third and final time, to give unimaginable power to Riddle."

Amy stared, disbelieving, at the Doctor.

She was about to say something, when the Doctor hopped into the Room of Requirement; where he'd stored the TARDIS. Amy and Rory followed, bumping into the Time Lord's back. He'd stopped just a few steps in.

"Not the TARDIS then," Rory mumbled.

Whether it was a twist of their thoughts and wishes, the Room overloading, or maybe even trying to help them, the Room they'd arrived in was very different to the one they'd aimed for. In front of them, a whole cult stood, robes pulled up, hoods raised and obscuring faces; save for one in the centre, who wore no hood. Instead, she had on a metal mask.

Bellatrix Lestrange; arms raised, screeching out unknown words and incantation. One eye flashed towards the newcomers; a feral grin.

"Vetis!" a final shout. Sparks shot from her wand; held high in one hand.

For the third and final time, a creature started to rise from the stone slab of a serpent; glowing, emitting wave upon wave of blistering heat. When it was about the size of a human, still growing, its features could just be made out; even with colouring distorted from the constant growth, the curled horns were visible, as well as the harsh face.

The heat was reaching unbearable peaks; and still increasing. The torches along the walls burnt to cinders in seconds, plunging them into darkness for a few seconds, until the witches and wizards of the cult cast _Lumos_.

Several minutes of hell later, and the Daemon Vetis stood proudly, high above them, looking down on them in both disposition and height. Cruel eyes surveyed the room; focusing for one moment on Bellatrix, and then the Doctor.

"Vetis!" Bellatrix Lestrange shrieked, "For your final coming, we bring you a gift."

The Doctor stiffened; "Oh no, that's never good," he mumbled. He didn't moved forwards however; which in all honesty, wasn't surprising. Even if he dared move, he could do nothing against the fearsome creature in the room.

"A sacrifice for the Daemons," a cruel glint in her eyes, a curl of sadism at her lips, Bellatrix pointed her wand at what seemed to be featureless floor; the marble lifted up several centimetres before, agonizingly slowly, scraping, moving sideways. There was a room beneath them; a flick of her wand.

Robes torn, face bloodied and hair greasy, and flung forwards, dishevelled, the stolen Potions Master Severus Snape looked up.


	10. Corrupted

**Hello again! Definite classic series references here, but it was a good episode, so I had to include some homages. Vetis is a strangely fun character to write.  
>A few mild teasers for the next year, but only very mild. Mainly dramatic stuff though. because we're near the end, so I'm definitely allowed to be dramatic. For a bit of trivia, the Daemons original story was an extension of the text Katy Manning (Jo Garnt) had to do for her audition.<br>Enjoy! Personally I'm quite proud of the ending of this chapter. **

Vetis looked down at Bellatrix; thick-set lips curled to an unreadable expression. Eyes glared, with enough force to seemingly shatter the marble floor.

"You have called me for the final time," Vetis rumbled, looking away to survey the room. Harsh eyes focused on the dishevelled Snape; "A pathetic sacrifice, yet a sacrifice nonetheless. I thank you."

The Daemon lifted one arm, casually. For a split second, it seemed the air was split in two; on one side, calm, on the other, utter chaos: trails of what seemed to be lighting crackled from Vetis' hand. It arched through the air, straight for the Potion's Master, too fast, too sudden to react to.

Yet someone did; arguably the unlikeliest source.

"No!" a shriek from Bellatrix Lestrange; wand outstretched. The lightning bounced off a magical shield; "The sacrifice is yours when my Lord gets your power."

Vetis slowly turned his head; looking down at the small, yet strangely menacing, Death Eater. He kept his hand pointed at Severus, energy still being discharged.

"Few defy a Daemon," Vetis rumbled. Two seconds, utterly silent, passed. He lowered his hand. "Do not presume to do so again."

Wide eyes from behind a mask; unflinching. Bellatrix kept her gaze directly on the Daemon, giving no sign of any fear. Despite his attempts at intimidation, Vetis appeared to have had no effect on the Death Eater.

Almost unconsciously, the cult within the room was shuffling backward, away from the huge, imposing form of the Daemon. By the entrance to the room, the Doctor, Amy and Rory stood; defenceless, unrestrained, yet with no inclination to move.

They'd seen the ease with which Vetis had attempted to kill Snape; and they had no witch willing to cast a protective spell. So long as the Daemon didn't notice them they should be, however temporarily, safe.

"Give my Lord your powers," Bellatrix seemed to try to command the Daemon; uncaring of its sheer power, and titanic presence.

"Do not command me," Vetis' eyes flashed. "My powers go only to the worthy, and within this castle," an almost imperceptible pause, "There is but one."

"My Lord is the greatest man," Bellatrix spat, "He-"

"Such pitiful communication is unneeded," Vetis raised one, muscled hand.

Silence; the Daemon turned, glaring down at Bellatrix. The witch hesitated; for once, perhaps the only time, the slightest bit anxious. The Daemon lifted a hand, pointing at her.

Once more, the air was torn in two; a flash of light.

Now, a chain connected Bellatrix and the Daemon; composed purely of strand of light, linking their foreheads together. Some kind of telepathic mergence, perhaps?

They seemed frozen in time, unmoving all the while that light joined them.

"What's happening?" Amy whispered; inwardly relieved no-one had yet reacted to their presence, most likely too scared by Vetis.

"Telepathic transfer," the Doctor whispered; "Vetis is going into her mind, rooting through it, probably life-chaining."

"Life-what-ing?" Amy blinked, rolling her eyes at the Doctor's bizarre turns of phrase

"Life chaining," the Time Lord shrugged, "Goes into a mind, looks at who they've seen, and goes into their mind by judging their location. Works with all recent memories, Vetis isn't just looking at her mind, he's looking into the minds of everyone she's met for the last, ooh, hour or so. Dangerous trick. He's learnt the secrets of everyone in this room, and all the Death Eaters. Probably most of Hogwarts; the concentration needed to do that though," the Time Lord winced; "Immense."

"Voldemort's going to learn how to do that?" Rory murmured, aghast, awed. "If he gets the powers they're all talking about anyway." Still in Dumbledore's body, the expression of fear was all the more poignant.

"Yeah," the Doctor exhaled. "Possibly. It's not certain any human could _survive _a Daemon's powers, but if anyone could- not a happy thought. And it would corrupt, everyone, if given enough power, gradually turns sour. Daemon science more than most; the species started off as logical, but they became like this, cold, by the temptation."

They were quiet for a few moments, amazed and more than a little terrified by the Doctor's words. Vetis was scanning the minds of everyone in Hogwarts, pretty much, and in the end, Lord Voldemort himself might gain those powers. That was without mentioning the casual attack on Snape, the heat shield, the animation of the metal snake, the devastation wreaked on the Forbidden Forest…

The Dark Lord with those powers didn't bear thinking about.

Tense, the Doctor took a few steps forwards. "If I can't use the TARDIS," he murmured once, lifting the sonic screwdriver.

A flicker passed through the otherwise solid chain of light; the Daemon grunted.

"Heat shield disrupted," the Doctor murmured, "For a moment. I hope Harry can get through."

There was no time for any more words on that subject however; the chain of light flickered away, leaving Bellatrix, paler than ever, reeling against her wishes, with the impassive Vetis standing high above her.

"The Dark Lord," Vetis rumbled, indifferent to the Death Eater's pain below, "A most intriguing specimen."

The Daemon stretched its neck, horns chipping the ceiling. Silence; the cult had gathered into a corner, away from the Daemon, hoping to be ignored in the same way the Doctor, Amy and Rory were.

Bellatrix Lestrange, voice audibly more strained than before, agonized by the telepathic link, spoke. "Will-"

"I have decided to gift my powers to one," Vetis spoke.

Below, Bellatrix Lestrange's face split into a feral grin. She reached out an arm, bearing the pale skin and the branded, blackened Dark Mark. She lifted a hand, ready to jab it down, to call Lord Voldemort.

Vetis looked down; a hint of a smirk curling his thick lips.

"But not to he," the Daemon shook his head. "There is one more worthy."

The Death Eater looked up, as if the Daemon had spoken blasphemy. She seemed about to respond, to shout; yet the Daemon casually ignored her.

Instead, it turned its gargantuan frame to face the entrance to the room; lifting one arm. Rumbling, its words resounded as it pointed towards a certain Time Lord.

"I will grant my powers to him. The Doctor."

O

"There!" Harry shouted, pointing towards the barrier just steps away; a flicker in the air was just visible. "Quickly, while it's down!"

There were a few hasty words among the rest of the DA, though Harry barely heard. Too intent on saving his godfather, on finding Sirius.

Who knew how much time they'd wasted? A lot could have happened.

Harry leapt onto the back of a Thestral, urging it onwards. A few seconds later, and the scaled creature was lifting into the air, soaring higher and higher; to the Ministry of Magic with any luck, and Sirius Black.

The flight itself was surprisingly short, with the Thestrals flying at astonishing speed, taking the DA to London in a matter of minutes. With a mild clutter, the winged horses landed in an empty street.

Harry leapt off, rushing ahead, unwilling to wait a second more Somewhere around here was the visitor's entrance, which he'd used at the beginning of the year.

Wince; his scar prickled for a few seconds. Not a good sign.

"Over here," Ron gestured towards a phone box.

The DA hastily followed. Ginny stayed back a few steps; taking a last look around at the streets. She'd spent most of her life in the magical world, she looked at the Muggle city around her with the same eyes a Muggle might look at the moving staircases and talking portraits of Hogwarts.

Most of Dumbledore's Army descended to the Ministry. Ginny found herself at the back of the queue. Almost reluctant to enter the familiarity of the Ministry, out of the newness of the world around her.

Soon she was the last one outside. Sighing, she looked away from the street, putting her hand on the box.

"Phone box," a woman's voice laughed; "Quaint."

Ginny turned her head, hand on the door, to see a lightly tanned, blonde woman standing just down the street. Ginny paused; she couldn't enter the Ministry now, in that case: if that woman was a Muggle, then vanishing into the red box would most likely be suspicious. To put it mildly.

"And you are?" Ginny kept her body facing the payphone, yet retained eye contact with the stranger as she spoke

"Oh, right," she laughed again, "Doctor River Song. We'll meet later."

Ginny hesitated; discomforted and automatically distrustful of the stranger.

"Now, this is the important part," River took a step closer; "Harry's going to die here. In about an hour or so; it shouldn't happen, but the man who's meant to save him arrives too late."

"W-what?" Ginny frowned; caught off-guard by the seriousness of River, and the meaning of her words. "How can you know that- what is this?"

"I'm trying to warn you," she paused, rubbing a hand down a bleeding cut on her cheek, "As soon as Harry dies, Tom attacks Hogwarts. No survivors, even-" she hesitated, "Even the Doctor died." A strange, soft vulnerability in her eyes, "I need you to stop that happening."

"What-why me?" Ginny found River's arguments strangely compelling; even though the redhead couldn't recall meeting this doctor Song before, the sheer strength of her words was convincing.

"You and Harry," River spoke, a strange, tender laughter in her voice, "You two. I know how it feels to have someone like that; they make the world keep turning, sometimes literally, and you'd do anything to… even endanger time."

"I..." Ginny let her voice trailed off, fully understanding the depths of emotion mentioned

"If anyone can save him, it'd be you," River nodded once; a smile.

Smiling, Ginny nodded once, oddly grateful. Then, wordless, the witch walked into the red phone box and, with one last look at a bemused River, activated it, taking her to the Ministry of Magic.

Exhaling, she walked out into the imposing entry corridor. The DA wandered in one, tightly-packed group, past the grand fountain, to the Department of Mysteries.

Ginny barely paid any attention to what they said; River's words played on her mind.

_If anyone can save him, it'd be you_.

Ginny didn't know whether to be flattered, or afraid. Harry was in danger? In that case, she needed to stay by him. Not that it'd be a struggle.

_Room of Requirement, staying after the lesson. 'Clearing up'; which they were, in a way. They were clearing the air. _

_She initiated it, really. Harry was ready to leave, she caught his arms. Their lips met; an unspoken promise. And it happened again, and again, almost every lesson from then on. Wordless; there was nothing to say. _

_Harry would get around to telling Ron. One of these days. When they were together though, it slipped their minds. Too concerned with each other. _

The redhead found herself smiling at the memories.

They passed torches, and long, winding metal corridors. A strange room full of brains, and an eerie, unsupported veil.

"Who's there?" Harry called out; seemingly hypnotized by the veil's gentle motion. He stepped down, descending the benches leading to the sunken pit, and the veil within.

With a nervous look at the veil, Ginny followed him; tentative.

"Sirius?" Harry murmured, fixated by the archway and the veil within.

"I can hear something," Ginny whispered, placing her hand on Harry's arm. Her thoughts were somehow drawn to an event last year; the inexplicable death of a girl in class.

And then her thoughts returned to River: _Harry's going to die here_. The preternatural magnetism of the veil made her think of death; that idea alone was enough to snap her out of the strange trance.

"Harry," Ginny squeezed the boy's arm, as they neared the arch, oblivious to the calls from the rest of the DA. "He's not here."

"I, yeah," Harry frowned, blinking, looking away from the veil.

The spell was broken; shaken, yet newly resolute, Harry moved away, Ginny at his side, leading the DA further through the Ministry.

They passed another spellbinding, mystical room; a bird's egg in a bell jar, continually hatching, to a full-formed bird, and then somehow reverting back into an egg. Again and again.

And then they were in another room; one that seemed possibly less unexplainable than the many they'd passed through, yet the sense it gave was one of immense importance.

Shelves; stacks and stacks of shelves, high, and stretching so far away; each dotted with small, swirling, misty orbs. Strangely though, every single one of the orbs had a small crack running through it.

"Ninety seven," Harry breathed, "Row ninety seven, in the dream."

"Then let's go," Ginny murmured, moving on in the same step as Harry.

They were both disturbed by the silence; they expected some noise, some sound; whether it be the voice of the Dark Lord, or Sirius himself.

Row ninety seven; it was empty.

Harry ran forwards, looking around wildly, aghast; where was he? He had to be here… Anywhere here, close…

"I…I don't think Sirius is here," it was Hermione who voiced the ever-present worry.

A pause.

"Harry?" Ron called, a little worried by the black haired boy's stillness.

Silence; Harry looked around, from orb to orb.

"He has to be," Harry whispered, afraid now.

"I…" Ginny began, about to say some apology.

_It had been her, who first said 'I love you.' She wasn't aware of saying it at the time, until a few seconds after, when she covered her mouth with both hands, surprised she'd spoken. _

_Not that it was a lie; she just never expected to say it. _

_Yet she was glad she did; a few seconds later, and Harry had smiled at her, repeating the words, before moving inc loser for another kiss._

Her eyes caught on something in the distance.

"Harry," she muttered urgently, hoping it was some clue, for Harry's sake. "Over there," she pointed. "It's got your name on it."

Eyes suddenly wide, Harry darted to the shelf, urgent, feverishly struggling to reach the sphere. Then, in a momentary fit of recklessness, he snatched the cracked orb up, holding it in his hand.

The Boy Who Lived turned, brushing dust off the glass ball. He froze.

"Very good, Potter," the slow drawl of Lucius Malfoy spoke, "Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

Harry looked around; the Death Eaters had come to the Ministry. They swarmed around the DA; including, Harry noticed in a momentary panic, the masked Bellatrix Lestrange.

And still, in Ginny's mind, she heard River's warning.

_Harry's going to die here._

_If anyone can save him, it'd be you._

O

Chaos erupted in the Room of Requirement; strangely, the one who was most afraid by the prospect of receiving Vetis' tainted Daemon powers, was the Doctor himself. The Time Lord took a hasty step back.

"No! No, I don't want it," the Doctor shook his head, quickly, eyes wide. Amy and Rory stepped, subconsciously, away from the singled out Time Lord.

Vetis turned until his full body faced the diminutive figure. Horns still pointing upwards, the Daemon raised a muscled hand.

"You refuse my power?" A deep, slow rumble; voice between disbelieving and fury.

"Well, of course I do," the Doctor muttered; to the untrained here, he might have sounded almost flippant, yet there was a definite undercurrent of fear. "I'm not interested in controlling mankind, like you, I want to see how they get on themselves."

"Man would manage nothing," scathing; voice like an earthquake.

"I don't believe that," the Doctor spoke softly.

"Then you are flawed."

The Doctor's eyes met the Daemon's; silence. But in that silence were so many words; _and what if I am?_

Vetis was the first to look away, arm raised to a fist level with his neck, facing the distant roof.

"I will bequeath my power or sterilize this world," Vetis spoke; an unquestionable statement. The cult below backed off further, as close to the wall as they could go.

By the door, Amy, Rory and the Doctor moved away: the door itself was locked, perhaps by Vetis, or by Bellatrix, or by the Room itself. Only Bellatrix stood in the centre, near the summoned titan.

The Doctor, resigned, stepped forwards.

"Well?" the Time Lord spoke, arms at his sides, open, defenceless.

"I will see the Dark Lord," Vetis rumbled. "My power shall be gifted to he."

Bellatrix gave a grin smile; pale skin giving her the appearance more of a wraith than a glad disciple.

"And him?" the Death Eater spoke, softly cruel, baring the Dark Mark to the air as she pointed to the Doctor.

"He is not rational," Vetis rumbled. "He must be eliminated."

"Good," Bellatrix exhaled, with a feral smile.

"No, no, not good at all," the Doctor shook his head; yet strangely, not in an effort for his life. "One thing a human should never do, is wish death on another. It's just wrong. You know, one of these days, you're going to meet your match; someone will out-duel you, and then, you know what?" the fire in the Doctor's eyes burned brighter than ever, though his voice quietened. "I really hope they forgive you. No human should ever wish death on another."

"You are not human," Bellatrix snarled.

"Oh, right," the Doctor rolled his eyes; "And that's all there is to it, then?"

"It is," Vetis cut into the conversation, rumbling. Arm outstretched; the air was cut in two, and lightning arced forwards, striking the Doctor.


	11. Exorcism

**This and the next chapter were originally going to be one. And then it ended up being almost twice as long as a chapter generally is, and still not done, so it's been split up into two. SO here's chapter eleven, which sees the conclusion of one storyline, a few dramatic bits, and still some loose ends.  
>Enjoy! <strong>

"_Protego!_" the spell came from an unlikely source, as much as an impossible one.

In every species, it is said there is one overpowering instinct. The need for survival; and in one such creature, the wish was so great, that it thought. The Daemon means certain death for the whole world, whether it keeps its power or gives it to Lord Voldemort.

And only one man seems able to fight the beast.

Voice guiding every action, Dumbledore's body, thought to be Rory, stretched out an arm, wand high, and cast the shield spell. The Doctor straightened his face, whirling around, shocked at his thought-to-be companion.

"Side effect of the Polyjuice?" the man shrugged, tentative.

"Mm," the Doctor nodded, inwardly counting down. He whispered numbers from five to one, before looking at Rory, eyes emotionless. "Right."

He span around, once more facing Vetis.

The Daemon frowned; not from anger, having long left behind such emotion, more from a sense of disappointment. With one last surge of power, which almost made the headmaster's body buckle, Vetis turned away, lowering his arm once more.

"He will be yours," Vetis spoke; a sneer, down to Bellatrix.

The Death Eater exhaled; relief, and savage contentment. She took one step back, so as to look at the Daemon's savage face.

"I will give your Lord my gifts," Vetis rumbled, before she could speak.

Eyes wide, the Death Eater stabbed a finger down; the Dark Mark on her arm burned, calling out through time and space.

A ripple passed through the watching cult; she'd called Voldemort. No matter what any of their personal opinions were, none of them were all that eager to see him. At the back, Draco's eyes dulled. Anger; as much for Harry, as himself. His growing friendship with the Boy Who Lived caused it. Parents killed: by the Dark Lord himself.

Unforgivable.

Malfoy found himself, tentative, quietly, and nervously, moving forwards, around the outside of the cloaked huddle.

"Vetis!" Bellatrix cried, exulting, "The most powerful man comes!"

The Daemon stayed silent; waiting to see the Dark Lord. Its logical mind refused to let it do anything else: grant powers to the coming wizard, or sterilize the world, discard the experiment. If Voldemort was not worthy, then the Earth would pay the price.

A rush of air; a gust of black wind, more tangible than smoke, and thicker than fog, brushed past the cult, swirling around the imposing Vetis once, before stilling just by Bellatrix. The murky air faded; and a new figure stood there, almost skeletal, sallow, pale skin and snakelike eyes in an inhuman face. Thin, flowing robes of blackness.

Lord Voldemort looked up at the Daemon; expressionless, yet anticipation seemed to fall from his frame. He gave what could best be described as a bow; bending one knee, in a gesture of respect, but by no means subservience.

"Ah, Vetis," a somehow spectral voice. "We meet."

"We do," Vetis' deep rumble resounded. "You claim to be the greatest human?"

"I do not claim anything," an edge to the Dark Lord's misleading, mellow tones. "It is who I am."

"We shall see."

"We shall," Voldemort's deceptively calm voice echoed, ominous; the cult shrank back further, intimidated by the near-legendary figure's presence.

The Dark Lord raised his wand to his head, extracting a twirling ball of mist from his mind. A sinister smile of victory resplendent on his face; he raised the wand higher, pointing it toward the Daemon.

"I give you my memories," Voldemort breathed. "And then, you shall give your powers to me."

"Do not presume to command me," Vetis' deep voice echoed, "I bear more power than you."

"And I cannot die by your hand," the Dark Lord gave another, semi-mocking, bow.

With no more to say, the Daemon reached out with one hand; the gaseous thoughts of Voldemort were drawn to it, through the air, until they flowed into the Daemon's savage body.

Protected by the still-raised shield charm, the Doctor, Amy, and Rory/Dumbledore watched, horrified. Snape lay, beaten and wand-less, on the floor, ready to be sacrificed to the Daemon. The cult watched from a distance, most likely to also be victims of Voldemort's insatiable wrath. And the time travellers were an explicit target, trapped, and guarded by a shield charm cast by someone unused to such spells. A shield that was weakening already.

And even as they watched, Vetis' cruel features were contorting themselves into what was almost a grin.

"A worthy heir," Vetis pronounced, with a grudging respect. "To you," the Daemon faced Voldemort, "I bestow the powers of the Daemons."

The Dark Lord looked up, an expression akin to ecstasy on his pale, flat face: not happiness, for he proved almost incapable of experiencing that emotion, but rather, he felt a sense of need, desire to possess.

"Stop!" the Doctor shouted, taking a step forward and coming into contact with the back of the shield charm. He stumbled, righting himself quickly, to stand straight as the Daemon turned towards him; glare renewed.

"Your time has passed," the Daemon rumbled. "You will not be gifted."

"No, not that," the Doctor shook his head, bizarrely casual. He put a hand into his pocket; "I'm giving you a chance. Stop this now."

"Or?" Vetis' booming laughter shook the foundations of the Room itself

"Or this," the Doctor met the Daemon's eyes, lifting a small, round item with a red centre, pointing it straight towards the Daemon's head for a moment, before concealing it behind his hand.

"Is that-" Rory began, whispering to Amy

"Yeah," the redhead paused, "Go with it."

"TARDIS self destruct," the Doctor stated. "Loss of Hogwarts or Tom getting unlimited power. I know which I'd pick."

Silence. Vetis stood high above them all; and stretched out one arm, towards the Dark Lord. The Doctor made a warning noise.

"I have seen your mind, Time Lord," the Daemon boomed. "Your tricks will fail."

"Oh, well," the Doctor shrugged, biting into the jammie dodger, "Worth a try. Worked before."

Refusing to grace the eccentric man with even the slightest acknowledgement, Vetis closed his eyes, ready to transfer the knowledge and power within Daemon science to the Dark Lord. Perhaps then the Doctor would die: and Earth might also become an interesting experiment once more.

"No!" a shout; this time from the cult.

Draco Malfoy ran forwards, yanking a wand from the pockets of a nearby Slytherin, and throwing it forwards. "_Confringo!_" a shout; a jet of light from his own wand, striking Vetis' arm. An instant later, Draco cast another spell, "_Relashio!_"

The first spell struck the Daemon, resulting in an eruption of flames, a staggeringly violent conflagration which resulted in no more than a few centimetres' movement of the titan's arm. The Daemon turned; furious.

The second spell struck Severus Snape, freeing him of his bonds; and despite his weakness, the potions master was able to catch the wand thrown at him. The black haired teacher got to his feet, quickly, swaying marginally, and looked at both his master and fellow Death Eater.

No human is perfect; and when held hostage for a year, beneath the whims of the unstable Bellatrix Lestrange, even the strongest is likely to crack. Severus snarled a curse, aiming first at the giant Daemon:

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

The green flash of light struck the horned creature. A shout; a cry which made the room vibrate.

A cry which turned to laughter.

"We are the creators of mankind," Vetis bellowed; logical composure tainted with something akin to fury. "Your spells are pathetic compared to us."

The Daemon, seemingly unaffected by the killing curse, extended an arm, making the same gestures which would release the lethal lightning.

"No," Voldemort glided in front; "Severus was once my follower. It is fitting that I," the Dark Lord hesitated, running a long finger down his own wand, "Dispose of him."

A flash; an instant change of mood.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Watching from the side of the room, were the time travellers, as always. The Doctor tensed, as soon as Draco ran forwards; but quickly reacted, turning around to his friends.

"Rory," the Doctor said, after a moment's hesitation. "Dumbledore; The Only One He Ever Feared, according to the books. We have to test that," the Time Lord's voice was strangely absent of the life and vigour he so often possessed

"Doctor?" Amy frowned.

"We've got Dumbledore," the Doctor quickly continued. "If anything can give old Tom pause, that's it."

"W-what?" Dumbledore's body hesitated, "I need to pretend to be Dumbledore, for real?"

"Exactly," the Doctor nodded; eager, yet still without that spark. "You should have had plenty of practise at acting. He-"

"Doctor!" Amy interrupted, nudging the Time Lord.

The redhead was pointing towards the centre of the room. The Doctor span around; eyes widening.

Well, there goes that plan. They could almost hear his thoughts.

A green light blazed from the tip of the Elder Wand, grasped tightly in the pale Dark Lord's hand. Straight towards Snape; the potions master took a step back, futilely, as the light-

Flickered away into nothing.

Silence in the room; save for an eerie buzzing. Furious, Voldemort turned to face the Doctor.

The Time Lord held the sonic screwdriver high; disrupting any and all magic that tried to assert itself. Voldemort jabbed his wand forwards; attempting a snarled curse, and failing as the magic failed to appear.

"Vetis," the dark wizard snarled, "Kill him!"

The shield charm protecting the trio also, had gone: lost by the Doctor's disruptions. The Daemon gave a savagely pleased grin, for once allowing the insubordinate order to pass. He reached out an arm.

"Now, you really don't want to do that," the Doctor grinned, clapping his hands together. "As you said, you've been in my mind: and look at me, I'm not scared in the slightest, I'm confident. If I were you, I'd be wondering why," he spoke clearly, quickly. The light from the screwdriver never faltered.

Vetis' outstretched arm faltered.

"Speak," the deep rumble once more.

"Sonic," the Doctor tapped the screwdriver once. "Bella," he looked at the Death Eater: "Remember what you did as soon as you got here? You cut the room away from the regular dimensions, same as me, nice trick. Let others enter the Room even while you were in here; and stopped you two disturbing each other. Only when the room detected a need to go to that room, did it let anyone in."

"Your time is numbered," Vetis' rumbled, before the Doctor could continue with his clever monologue. "Do not waste it."

"Oh, alright," the Doctor flashed a surprising grin; "I'm going to do the same, with a twist. The sonic is keyed to the dimensional frequencies of this room: the next instant one of you tries a spell, tries to hurt anyone, I'll flick the switch. Bam! Well, more _whirdlegurglybop_, but just go for bam. The Room becomes a prison; door severed from Hogwarts. No one gets into this aspect of it, or out of this aspect, ever again. Not even the TARDIS could make it: you'll be locked in the realm of potential, possibility and could-be. Never _being_, never existing again. Is that what you want?"

The Doctor exhaled, triumphant, looking around, surveying the room. Behind him, Amy and Rory stepped closer together: they were unprotected from the Daemon's whim, and appealing to that monstrosity's better judgement didn't seem like a good place to stand.

Silence.

Though they didn't understand the science, the humans in the room recognized the import of the words; as well as the fact it made the fearsome Vetis hesitate. The Doctor could trap them all in the room, forever, cut it off from the rest of Hogwarts. No escape.

Draco got to his feet, unsteady from where Bellatrix had been torturing him with shrieks of _Crucio_! He swayed; yet stayed still, nervous in the tangible, tense silence. Snape stood by his side, unsteady; yet wand still raised, in protection. Eyes wide with anger, dishevelled hair falling chaotically.

By the Daemon's hooves, Bellatrix and Voldemort stayed still; both ready to unleash more curses, if only it were possible. Yet they were at the mercy of the Doctor's sonic, and Vetis' supply of power. They couldn't resist the Daemon if they wanted the gift.

Yet Bellatrix reached down; grasping the handle of her knife.

Silence.

Two alien eyes glared into one another. The guarded, passionate Doctor, and the uncaring Vetis.

Then:

"Go," a deep rumble, almost below the human range of hearing: felt more than heard, a resonance in the marble and bone.

Seconds passed.

"_Go_!" a shout, contempt, fury in the word of the Daemon. Vetis struck out with one hand; a jet of lightning, scarring the stone walls of the chamber.

Behind the Doctor, the door of the room clicked; unlocked.

The Doctor kept his glowing sonic raised, green light keeping all the rooms magic at bay. The students hurried out, the cult, Draco, Snape, the latter two pausing just outside the room.

Within the marble chamber, now only the Doctor, Vetis, Bellatrix and Voldemort stood. Dumbledore's body and Amy had left, for 'safety': the Doctor's request. Leave the Daemon behind.

The silver snake rested on the floor; yet it was now still, the life which had animated it now taken back into Vetis.

Click.

The light on the screwdriver went off; yet the Doctor still kept it held tightly in his hand. "It's on the same setting," the Doctor spoke quickly. "One press of a button, and whirdlegurglybop."

The Dark Lord breathed heavily, exhaling with a hiss. Loathing in his eyes.

"Get out," the Doctor spoke; suddenly harsh. "You've been manipulating history, taking innocent lives, for five years. I won't forgive you: but I will give you a chance. Daemons have corrupted better people than you." A pause; "Get out." He spoke again. And then fell silent.

The two opposing forces glared at each other; a witch, a wizard, and a Daemon against the Last of the Time Lords.

"Bellatrix," Lord Voldemort whispered; lifting a skeletal arm. A flash of blue light; the Dark Lord vanished, yet a sense of foreboding remained.

The masked woman looked up; eyes meeting the Doctor's. She lifted an arm, as if to depart: Vetis still standing high above her. Arm tense.

A shriek; Bellatrix Lestrange raised her knife, high, running straight for the Doctor. The Time Lord took a cautious step back; Vetis raised an arm, taking the opportunity, unleashing an arc of energy through the air. Lethal. Straight for the Doctor.

Hands caught him from behind; violent pulling him out the room. Bellatrix stared forwards; eyes suddenly wide, throwing the knife and hastily moving her hands to activate the tiem-travelling device she bore.

Yanking it out from the Doctor's grasp, Severus Snape looked straight into his captor's eyes, and flicked on the sonic screwdriver.

From just a step outside the room, he saw Bellatrix vanish an instant before the door swung shut, sealed, sealing the Daemon Vetis within there eternally.

They could hear it roar even as it was locked away.

"No!" the Doctor stumbled up to his feet, snatching the sonic away from the dishevelled Snape. "You didn't need to do that."

"I did," the teacher spat, thrusting the screwdriver back, violently, towards the Doctor. "A year in her clutches. Nothing I _wouldn't_ do."

Severus Snape turned, pacing heavily away, leaving a staring Doctor behind.


	12. That Which Cannot Be Named

**Very long chapter this time, but hopefully a good ending to The Call. Several storylines resolved; but not all. Vague lead-in to next year.  
>Please don't hate me.<strong>

Harry ran through the Ministry of Magic, away from the legion of Death Eaters present; a while ago, the Order of the Phoenix had arrived, apparently warned by the Doctor, and had come when, inexplicably, the heat shield around Hogwarts had fallen.

Flash; he let loose a burst of light, back down the corridor, striking a distant, pursuing wizard.

Exhaling, weary, the Boy Who Lived stumbled into another room.

In the centre of the room, stood a familiar arch; and the eerie, inexplicable veil. Harry stumbled to a halt, mind going blank, forgetting the Death Eaters. Mind dominated by the whispers emanating from the veil.

Crack.

He was taken from the reverie by a sudden explosion; a curse by one of five Death Eaters, as they barrelled into the room. Neville, voice congested, duelled the group of five, alongside Sirius Black, Tonks, Luna and Hermione. The DA and Order raised several shields, narrowly blocking jets of red light.

"_Stupefy!_" Harry shouted, running towards the, managing to stun one of the Death Eaters before they'd noticed his presence. Then: "_Protego!_" Narrowly shielding against a retaliatory curse from one of the four still standing.

"Nice one Harry!" Sirius shouted, grinning. Harry's godfather twirled his wand, deflecting a curse and firing a curling ribbon of light in response. The ribbon spattered over the shield, turning to molten droplets and while none of them were strong enough to break through the shield charm, it was only meant as a distraction.

Luna cast a levitation charm, catching the Death Eater of guard as he was lifted about half a metre into the air, before being thrown, surprisingly hard by the normally docile Ravenclaw, into his ally.

"_Bombarda!_" a shout from one of the two remaining Death Eaters, sending a curse rocketing up to the ceiling. Chunks of stone fell the huge distance, clattering and shattering on the floor. As the Order and DA moved to protect against them, or to move out the way, two stunning hexes struck Hermione and Tonks.

"_Stupefy!_" Harry shouted, striking one of the two, momentarily pleased, Death Eaters. They fell to the floor, leaving one standing, who fought valiantly for several seconds, against Sirius and Luna on one side, and Harry for another: but it wasn't long until he too was stunned.

"Good job Harry," Sirius nodded appreciatively, running over to the student, and grasping the black haired boy in a tight hug; leaving it to Luna to _Ennervate _the stunned DA and Order members.

"Thanks, Sirius," Harry exhaled, panting. "Sorry for-"

"Don't worry," Sirius shook his head, batting away any apology Harry made for coming to the Ministry, "I'm just glad-"

Sirius hesitated for a moment; Harry frowned, about to say something, when he noticed a figure sideways. He turned; A flash of light, a second burst of light came spiralling down the corridor, striking Sirius Black: he was flung across the room, falling and passed, gracefully, through the veil.

The veil fluttered once; a momentary spark of action. And then it was still.

Harry looked sideways, first at the arch, and then towards the source of the spell: a terribly familiar face, a pale woman, tangled hair. Yet younger somehow, the same person, but at the wrong time.

Bellatrix Lestrange; face split wide open by a grin.

"I killed Black," her mocking, cruel voice carried own the corridor.

Killed?

Harry hesitated; unmoving. _Killed_/ he'd just fallen through the veil, Sirius would just be the other side of the arch. He'd come out; at some point, he'd come out. Fall through.

Yet the veil remained undisturbed. Sirius was lost.

"No!" Harry shouted, turning towards Bellatrix, eyes burning behind his glasses. The cry carried on, echoing through the Department of Mysteries, as Harry ran after the skipping, ecstatic murderer.

From the side, Ginny Weasley watched; unable to follow while she duelled McNair. Yet she watched her boyfriend's progress as he ran.

And River's words were in her head. _Harry's going to die here_.

Death was on Harry's mind, to be sure; but Sirius's, not his own. He didn't care about his own fate: thought had been obliterated, erased as the event played again and again in his mind, anger burning away all other cares.

Sirius, falling… Sirius, lost…

"_Little baby Potter_," the mocking child's voice of Bellatrix carried through the entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic. She hovered in the air, ahead, spouting mocking sentences Harry couldn't bear to hear.

She killed him. I'll kill her. Repeated like a mantra in Harry's head.

"_Crucio!_" Harry shouted, uttering the Unforgivable Curse in the Ministry. He'd have done the same if the Minister, Fudge, himself were there. The curse didn't go far enough, but it was a start at expressing his sheer rage.

Distracted, Bellatrix fell out of the air, but she got to her feet quickly, face contorted to a grin. "Baby Potter's growing up," she simpered. "Never used an Unforgivable Curse have you boy? But you have to _mean _them. You have to _want _to cause pain: to enjoy it. I'll give you a lesson-" she drew her wand back.

"_Crucio!_" the Death Eater shrieked, striking the golden fountain as Harry ducked behind it; a shriek of annoyance, and she ran to follow.

"_Stupefy!_" he shouted, filled with anger.

Unaware of the nuances of time, Harry didn't care if he caused a paradox: killing Bellatrix before she, somehow, impossibly, started to travel in time. But that rage against her future self forced him onwards now.

"_Stupefy!_" another shout; he ducked as Bellatrix deflected the curse, before reaching up over the fountain and casting it again.

"_Crucio!_" this time, her curse struck the Boy Who Lived square on.

Screaming, writhing in agony, Harry fell to the floor. His wand clattered along the floor; Bellatrix stood above him, wand pointed cruelly at the tortured boy.

"The prophecy, boy," she spat, "Give me the prophecy or I'll kill you." She was serious now, no longer playing her games of pain.

"Then you'll have to kill me," Harry forced the words out, from the floor. His glasses were cracked, his wand was out of his hands and eyesight. Yet he just managed to sit up, weakened. "It's gone."

"What"? Bellatrix cried; for a moment, it sounded as if she were afraid. "What do you mean?"

"The prophecy was smashed," Harry murmured, tired.

"Liar!" Bellatrix shrieked, "_Crucio!_" she shouted, from spite, though the pain inflicted felt less than before: yet still unbearable. Distracted. Then she raised her wand to the air: "_Accio prophecy! Accio prophecy!_"

Nothing came.

"No!" a shriek, from the Death Eater still. Harry could just make out a blurred figure as his scar burned. "I tried Master, I tried!"

"He can't hear you," Harry shouted, struggling to his feet, and managing to put his glasses back on.

"Can't I, Potter?" a high, cold voice spoke.

Silence was left in its wake. Nervous, the Boy Who Lived turned, to see a pale figure standing on the Ministry floor. Dark slits for eyes, and nostrils flat on his face. Lord Voldemort.

Behind him, Bellatrix was repeating apologies again and again: Harry tensed, afraid. When that woman seemed frightened, there was always good reason.

"Leave us Bella," Voldemort spoke; kindly, yet mocking. "I shall deal with you later," he looked at Harry. "I have nothing more to say to you, Potter."

The Dark Lord's voice was quiet. "You have irked me too often, for too long," he lifted his wand in one, inhuman hand, pointing it straight at the unarmed, undefended Harry Potter.

He peeled back his lips, to cast the killing curse: and Dumbledore was not coming to save the boy.

O

The Doctor, the one who had Dumbledore's body, and Amy. They stood just outside the Room of Requirement; it was still very much there, with only one room sealed away.

The TARDIS was inside; it was that they were there for, yet something else was occupying the Doctor's mind.

"Hey, Doctor," Amy began, frowning. "Could you really have done that, sealed off the Room?"

"Yep," he nodded grimly; then hesitated. "Kind of."

"Kind of?" Amy stopped walking, looking at him incredulously

"Yes, well," he Doctor winced. "Sonic definitely could have, as Snape proved," he paused, exhaling his irritation, "But not with so many people in there. Room reacts to willpower, that many people would've stopped me doing anything. Of course, with just Vetis in there…" his voice trailed off.

The redhead paused, taking it in, and refusing to speak. When she eventually had it straight, she spoke, strangely matter-of-factly.

"You risked everyone's lives on you trying to trick a Daemon with a screwdriver?" she stated, letting each word fall with an almost audible thump.

"Well," the Doctor fiddled with his jacket, "Yes. But it's a sonic," he tacked on the last remark hopefully, as if it would make Amy forgive him.

A tense few seconds passed; the Doctor wilted somewhat, affected more by Amy's glare than several of the monsters he'd fought.

And then the redhead laughed. Still chuckling, she turned to face Dumbledore/Rory: "Can I kiss him?" she said, laughter still resplendent in her tone.

"Uh-um, sure," the man said, hesitant.

Before the Time Lord could react, Amy took a quick step forward, and planted a quick peck on the Doctor's cheeks. She seemed about to try something else, but the Time Lord quickly moved away. The redhead seemed to follow, yet something had somehow gone from the Doctor's eyes, the trace of childlike innocence and amusement he radiated in their conversation had vanished.

In all honesty, it scared her a little; the Time Lord always seemed to be happy, bubbling through anything.

"So," the Doctor began: still missing his usual, bubbly enthusiasm while he spoke. And then his voice dropped to a tantalizingly serious tone; he met 'Rory's' eyes.

"Polyjuice potion doesn't last that long," he said, quite simply, leaving it to the duo to read into that statement.

It was not Rory before them, wearing Dumbledore's body as he had done so often before. It was Albus Dumbledore himself: yet controlled completely and utterly by the menacing Voice from Midnight.

Amy stepped away from him; quickly, sudden, aghast.

"What do you mean?" he spoke, in a passable imitation of Rory's voice.

"You know what I mean," the Doctor replied, unforgiving. "If you were Rory, you'd have turned back by now."

"I-" Rory began

"Don't," the Doctor interjected; "You really don't want to lie to me right now. You've possessed two of my friends, and that's really not a safe place to stand."

A quiet few seconds. Amy cautiously stepped towards the Doctor; the Voice-possessed body was still. Then, in a harsh voice at odds with the kind headmaster's face, it spoke:

"What would you suggest I do?"

"Right then," the Doctor clapped his hands once, "Now we're onto the juicy stuff. Just what should you do? Well, you've been in Dumbledore's head, and mine, so you know what we know. Harry's in the Ministry, and about to die. We're probably going to get there too late: but we have to try."

"I will not leave this body," the Voice spoke, quite clearly, yet somehow forced. "

"Won't you?" the Doctor phrased it like a question, despite the challenging overtones

"You would not harm it."

"We wouldn't, no," the Time Lord met the Voice's eyes; "But we're not the only ones you have to worry about. Out there, Tom Riddle is about to kill the only person stopping him from launching an all-out attack on the wizarding world. Harry's the only person that can stop him, in the future: right now, what this world needs, is Albus Dumbledore. Brilliant Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. And you're in his body."

"I will survive."

The Voice's simple words put an end to the conversation. When all was said and done, very little was more powerful than a species' instinct to survive: especially for a species that would do anything to avoid returning to its hellish, desolate home planet.

However, if there was one thing that could pose a challenge to the Voice's need to escape Midnight, and to escape any kind of death, it would have to be the Doctor's mind.

"Wouldn't you rather have a better body, then?" the Doctor tilted his head, with false levity, "You're wondering around in that one: yes, it's magic, but it's old. He'll die soon."

Cautious, the Voice met the Doctor's gaze once again. Silent; yet urging the Time Lord to continue.

"I can offer you a better body," he said simply.

"Whose?" the Voice forced the words out of Dumbledore's lips.

Silence; Amy tensed, instinctively knowing just what the Doctor would do.

"Mine," the Time Lord said, simply. As the last echoes of the word faded, he spoke again: "Just think of it. Last of the Time Lords, young body with several hundred years in it yet, and then a couple of regeneration cycles if you want to keep things fresh. And of course, impeccable fashion sense," the Doctor flicked his bow tie.

It was, he reflected, a truly odd experience, to be advertising your own body to a prospective user.

"Doctor-" Amy began

"Don't, Pond," the Doctor span around suddenly; "This is about the whole of Hogwarts, the world. Right now, it's full of temporal tipping points: this is one of them, and if I have to lose control to save Harry, Dumbledore, and Rory, then I will. Without question."

The redhead hesitated; she had nothing to say. Nothing she could say when the Doctor was like this.

"So, what do you say?" the Doctor spread his hands wide, open. "A few conditions though, of course. No wrecking the timelines, and you have to, you absolutely _have_ to let both Dumbledore and Rory go. And you have to keep the bow tie."

Silence. The Voice's body seemed unsure, watching the Doctor's eyes.

"Very well," Dumbledore's elderly frame extended a hand. The Doctor, solemn, moved to hold it.

Barely attention was paid to Rory's limp body, summoned there by the Voice's magic. Amy did sidle close to it, reassuringly holding his unresponsive hand, yet she couldn't tear her eyes away from the Doctor and the Voice.

Hands met.

They stood like that for half a minute, eyes focused on one another, hands tightly holding onto one another.

And then, with almost an anti-climax, Dumbledore staggered away, exhaling, inhaling, weary. In almost the same instant, Rory came to life, blinking, breathing, pulling on Amy's hand.

The Doctor was still.

After making sure her husband was ok, Amy ran forwards, even ignoring Dumbledore, until she stood right in front of the Doctor. No reaction.

"Doctor?" she said, tentative, almost unwilling to see his response.

The standing Time Lord looked up suddenly, meeting her eyes. They focused in on here. Then, seconds later, almost as an afterthought, he intoned: "Doctor." Voice strained.

Yet something was off; it wasn't just the unnatural speech of the Voice, something else…

"Are you…" Amy let her voice trail off, unbelieving.

The Doctor stared deep into her eyes. "Are you," he said, with that same, curious edge to his voice.

From behind her, Dumbledore moved closer, eyes expressing tragedy. He seemed about to speak; Rory stopped him, understanding his wife's need for quiet.

Amy wasn't sad however; she was thinking. That strange tone, that emotion in the Doctor's voice. It reminded her of…laughter?

Rolling her eyes, she spoke again, struggling slightly with the words. "She sells sea shells by the sea shore."

A few seconds, and the Time Lord continued to stare into her eyes. "She sells she-" and at that point, the dramatic effect was lost as he made a mess of the tongue twister.

Rory blinked. "How did you-"

"Oh, easy," the Doctor clapped, skipping once on the spot before grinning. "And I'm really glad it worked, actually. Regenerations!" he tapped his head; "You forget the first step of possession: repetition. The Voice is currently repeating everything number, ooh, six says. And believe me, there wasa guy who could go on, and on, and on…"

Silence. Amy, Rory and Dumbledore stared at the healed Doctor.

"Well don't look so shocked," he grinned, "It's me! Anyway, we need to get you," he hopped over to Dumbledore, "To the Ministry."

They ran for the TARDIS: all the while knowing that it was too late.

If time carried on the way it should have, then Harry Potter would be dead.

O

Ginny disarmed her opponent, twirling her arm as she did so and then, nimbly avoiding a just-fired curse, she shouted "_Stupefy!_"

McNair fell, stunned to the ground. Without stopping to turn around, or see if there were any others, she ran down the corridor, after Harry.

The Boy Who Lived lingered in her mind; the echo of River's word brought him back. _Harry's going to die here. _

_If anyone can save him, it'd be you._

So that was just what she was going to do: save him.

And yet she froze, the instant she ran into the entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic: the Dark Lord himself stood by the now-wrecked fountain; Bellatrix appeared to have departed. Wand pointed down at the black haired student. "_Avada-_"

"_Expelliarmus!_" Ginny cried, interrupting the curse, uncaring of what would happen to her. Voldemort was about to kill Harry; and she was here to stop that.

The Dark Lord batted the curse away, with ease as well as irritation. He threw a casual curse at Harry, knocking the boy out, and then turned towards Ginny, lifting his wand.

She fired a jet of sparks forward; "_Accio,_" she whispered urgently, as Voldemort easily knocked away her curse. Muttering another spell, she moved Harry's wand back to its rightful, unconscious owner.

With a non-verbal spell, Voldemort threw a searing mass of writhing flame, straight towards the Fourth Year redhead. Eyes wide, she first tried to extinguish the flame and, when that failed, threw up a hasty shield, singing the edges of her hair but nonetheless surviving the assault.

A Fourth Year against the greatest Dark Wizard of all time? For a moment, she felt afraid; and then she remembered. Harry too had done the same, he'd duelled the resurrected Voldemort in the same year as her, after getting the Triwizard Cup.

If he could do it, so could she.

"_Incendio!_" her own spells seemed woefully inadequate against the maelstroms Voldemort conjured up.

Water from the fountain rose in some great twister, not only quenching her fire, but coming straight for her, a great heaving torrent filled with ghastly shapes; snarling snakes, chimera, and the face of Voldemort.

Instead of trying, most likely in vain, to shield herself against that spell, she used a dash of her own ingenuity. First, she cast a protect charm, in conjunction with a tiring barrage of fire, seemingly trying to evaporate the torrent; and thus hiding herself from the Dark Lord. Then she ran, out from where the great mass would fall.

"_Reducto!_" she shouted, now aiming for the stone floor beneath Voldemort. A flash of irritation crossed his pale face, as the stone gave way beneath him.

"_Expelliarmus!_" she cried, highly doubting it would work.

It didn't; leaping, most likely with magical means, the Dark Lord ascended most of the way to the ceiling. Descent; Voldemort stood on the empty air, levitating himself, several metres above Ginny's head.

A flash of light; a parry, a retaliatory flash. They duelled like that for several minutes, a strenuous activity on Ginny's part as she was forced to continually defend, and react in split-second intervals.

And Voldemort was beginning to smile. This was not a duel to him; this was _play_.

"_Aguamenti!_" Ginny shouted, at her first opportunity. A stream of crystal clear water poured from the tip of her wand, flooding the Ministry as she continued to block the Dark Lord's casual, crushing blows.

"You have been taught well," Voldemort remarked, delivering a casual curse which almost knocked Ginny to the floor, even with a shield charm raised. "It is a pity this will end so soon." The pale skinned wizard raised his wand

"_Incendio!_" Ginny cried out the curse, darting sideways, narrowly avoiding a jet of green light.

With that curse, an immensely tiring burst of fire, the water which had covered the Ministry floor evaporated. She didn't know the incantation for a smokescreen; and so relied on this, creating steam, a thick fog which concealed her from the Dark Lord's murderous gaze.

"Most inventive," Voldemort spoke, cruel, mocking.

Ginny quieted her breathing, pressing herself to the now moist floor, and scrambling behind the fountain, relying on the cover of the rising steam.

"_Ventus!_" the Dark Lord shouted; a powerful gust of wind roared through the chamber, purging all the steam in a matter of seconds. Ginny was thrown a metre across the stone floor.

Ginny opened her eyes, slowly, amazed she was still alive. Carefully, she began to sit up, to get to her feet, when she saw Voldemort standing right above her. Wand pointed directly at her. Pitiless.

Refusing to react to the merciless glare, she got to her feet; resisting the wizard, even when completely subject to his whim.

"Spirited," he commented, "It is almost a pity you belong to a family of blood traitors," his voice was bizarrely light.

"You can talk," Ginny retorted, doing her best to keep Voldemort distracted. _Harry's going to die here._. "Your father was a Muggle."

The Dark Lord hissed, drawing his wand back in preparation for a curse.

"Good luck Harry," she murmured, closing her eyes.

A strange, wheezing noise permeated the chamber. Ginny bathed in the oddly comforting sound, hoping it was the sound of help. Had she done enough to save Harry?

Harry awoke, slowly, from Voldemort's stunning spell, just in time to see a blue box form, towards the side of the foyer. He also saw Ginny, wand in her hand, loosely held by her side, with Voldemort thrusting his wand forward, snarling a curse.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

A green flash of light. The TARDIS door opened; Dumbledore and the Doctor stepped out. Harry struggled to his feet, only to fall again to his knees; a shout of heartbreak. "NO!"

Ginny Weasley fell back to the ground, eyes closed, strangely serene. Her hair fell in a beautiful pattern, reminiscent of a halo as she touched the cold floor. Lips in one final smile.

_If anyone can save him, it'd be you_.

"Tom," Dumbledore's aged voice shattered the disbelieving silence. "I had once harboured hope that you could be called back to the good side of magic. You have succeeded in convincing me otherwise, for the first time."

"That would be your problem, old man," the Dark Lord turned, utterly uncaring as to Ginny's death. "Naivety."

And, as was fated, the two extraordinary wizards duelled, neither with any ability nor inclination to hurt the other. Merely to test: and to save Harry's life.

O

Several days later, it was the end of the term at Hogwarts. Much of the book had gone as planned; save of course, for Ginny's tragic death.

Only the Weasley children to attend Hogwarts had heard it. Their parents had not yet been told; in part because no one was willing to say, in part simply because it was impractical. Yet when the end of term came, they were called to Hogwarts, rather than simply sending the Weasley students home.

The entire Weasley family was in Dumbledore's Office when they heard the news. At first, they hoped it was some kind of sick joke, and then they hoped there was a mistake. Gradually they came to understand it was the truth; their youngest daughter, Ginny, had lost her life to Lord Voldemort.

About a week into the holidays, the Weasley family were still at Hogwarts, along with much of the Order. A day previously, they'd paid their respects to Sirius. Now, they held Ginny's funeral in the school she'd never been able to complete.

On the way to the affair, the Doctor was stopped in the corridor by a familiar voice; "Hello sweetie."

"River," the Time Lord turned around, frowning as he saw the woman

"Just checking up on you," a sly smile. Then she sobered; "You didn't make it before. Or rather after, or," she spoke a Galifreyan term which couldn't be translated to English: a tense referring to the anti-conditional, the could-have-been-but-was-not.

"River," the Doctor repeated; a sigh. "I-"

"Sorry about Ginny," the time travelling woman nodded her head toward the distant funeral. "I told her to go after Harry. If she hadn't, Tom would've killed him, and Hogwarts wouldn't be here right now. Believe me, you'd rather this than that."

"So, are those the rules now? You won't tell me anything except what didn't happen?" the Doctor replied, bemused; able to almost file away his sadness. Not out of heartlessness; out of practise.

"Amazing," River laughed. "If I said that to any other traveller, they'd have complained that I broke a Law of Time, but you… Well, it's not as if we never broke any laws," she licked her lips, "Including a rather fun one on Delta IV."

"I don't think I should be hearing this," the Doctor interrupted. He frowned; "How'd you get away with breaking that law then?"

"Planning on stealing the trick?" River laughed. "It won't work again, not even here. You should've noticed by now; time's elastic, it's being stretched out of shape by Bellatrix. You can't damage broken time."

"So," the Doctor paused. "You know, I'd head to the Yule Ball last year, if I were you."

"Are you asking?" River smiled, blatantly flirting.

"Spoilers," the Doctor retorted.

"Well put," a laugh; "No spoilers from me either. Well, maybe one. The next time we meet, I'll slap you for something you haven't done yet."

"I look forward to it," the Doctor bowed his head

"I remember it well," River smiled.

A flash; and the mysterious woman vanished.

The Doctor soon grew serious again, turning to walk down the corridor. Ginny's funeral was ahead, in just a few minutes.

He couldn't believe she was dead: in both an emotional and logical point of view. Such a key point to the books, made meaningless. And the woman herself, the lovable, strong Ginny Weasley herself.

Fred and George stood in the corridor further down, just before the Great Hall: where the rest of the Weasley family were, in mourning. The Doctor slowed as he reached the redheads, instinctively feeling a pang of time-gone-wrong.

"You two," the Doctor went up to them, voice cracking. "Job for you."

"Is this- is this the best time?" Fred/George said; audibly upset, though their words didn't sound it. Escape through humour; their normal practise.

"Don't come to Hogwarts next year," the Doctor said

"We're listening," George/Fred said suddenly; dry. Tears could be heard, withheld, in the quip.

"The world needs laughter, now more than ever. You two especially can tell that; and I reckon you're going to be the best at supplying it. Harry's Triwizard winnings, a rather nice property in Diagon Alley…" the Doctor let his voice trail off.

He left the twins looking at each other; thoughtful. It'd be a while until they recovered from Ginny's death enough to put the plan into action: but when they did, it would be another small thing putting time back on the correct path.

The Great Hall: the tables had been cleared to the side, and the only people there were the Weasley family, and close friends; including Harry and Dumbledore. Much of the Order.

In the centre of the room, tranquil, lay Ginny: eyes closed as they were all that time ago, in the Ministry, still radiant, possibly with a kindly charm. She faced the distant, night-time ceiling, hands loosely by her sides.

Amy and Rory stood together, far from the wizards and witches; they knew Ginny as a character in a book, more than anything. It was a testament to the girl's likability that they too were almost as affected as her family.

Quiet, Harry drifted to her motionless head, standing by the halo of red hair, still spread out.

One solitary drop fell from his eyes, trickling over the curve of his cheek. Still silent, he lifted a finger, brushing away the salty droplet.

There was something strangely moving about the sight. The man standing over the body of the woman he would have married, had time proved true.

_Ginny smiling. Ginny laughing. Ginny moving closer. Ginny-_

_A green flash. Ginny falling; Ginny dying on the cold floor of the Ministry._

"Goodbye," a heartbroken whisper.

**On a related note, the story set in Year Six will be called Loss.**


End file.
